


Wolf, Bear, and Stag

by pialelovesmalta



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arya Stark loves drama, Baratheon bastard drama, Bisexual Character, Bisexual Female Character, Fluff and Smut, Gendry Waters cooks and fixes automobiles, Lyanna Mormont does not fuck around, Masturbation, Minor Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Minor Sansa Stark/Stannis Baratheon, Multi, Mutual Admiration, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rickon Stark is a giant puppy who is here for it, Shireen Baratheon is a serious and intense lady, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 82,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28878324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pialelovesmalta/pseuds/pialelovesmalta
Summary: Rickon, Shireen, and Lyanna are friends, who just incidentally all secretly lust after each other. It takes some time to figure it out."Uh, yeah, definitely." She was blushing furiously now. "But, like, if I'm into this girl, and I really am, too, I've got this feeling, like, I don't know, like . . . I've never really, like, been with a girl and I don't want to, like, lose that chance. So maybe it's . . . good that you like someone else too? I mean, if she . . . if I even have a chance with her, I mean, we haven't talked about, she doesn't even know I'm . . . Gods, Lyanna's . . .""Lyanna?" Rickon's mouth fell open."Um. Yes. Lyanna Mormont. I, um, like her. And you, Rick. I like you."
Relationships: Lyanna Mormont/Rickon Stark, Shireen Baratheon/Lyanna Mormont, Shireen Baratheon/Lyanna Mormont/Rickon Stark, Shireen Baratheon/Rickon Stark
Comments: 21
Kudos: 19





	1. RICKON

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Everybody Talks (to much)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22818079) by [Dandelionquake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dandelionquake/pseuds/Dandelionquake). 



> I wouldn't have thought of this ship, but I read Everybody Talks (to much) by DandelionQuake and it just took hold of me. It's not otherwise related to that fic (other ships do not match, etc.). I did also steal the idea of Aemon Targaryen as David Attenborough from Coming Home by OrangeTabby.
> 
> Just to clarify, Rickon is 19 here; Lyanna is 24; Shireen is 25.
> 
> So this is my first fic? Please be nice to me, but looking forward to your reactions and ideas about it.
> 
> Also, no beta. Anyone wants to, let me know. I am a copy editor but I know full well I won't always catch mistakes in my own work without fresh eyes.
> 
> I do not own these characters or this world. Just playing with someone else's toys.

— — —

"Yeah, y'know, the truth is . . . I've kinda been flirting with two different people for half a year now. I really think I like them both enough that I could see myself with either of them. But, it's like . . . really tough to imagine _not_ flirting with either of them, too, y'know?"

Lyanna's gaze was fixed on the autumn sunset outside the window. Her eyes, the same rich chocolate brown as her hair, glittered in their depths. He couldn't tell if she was sad, or . . . hopeful? His hand stilled, the sketch of her he'd been working on half-finished. The coffeeshop bustle around them faded out of his conscious attention. He hadn't expected this confession; their conversation over the past hour had been their usual banter: catching up on a week's worth of stories, teasing, and tangents.

He hadn't meant to ask about her love life, but _well, I guess that_ is _what I meant to ask about, really?_ She'd mentioned Dryn, from back in Winterfell, again, and he'd felt a spike of jealousy. But she and Dryn had been over even before she moved down here, she'd said . . . and then she'd just looked straight at him, and answered the unspoken question, too. He should have known she would.

Rickon took a long swig of coffee and made a noncommittal noise, looking at his sketchpad, encouraging her to keep talking. _Does she mean_ me? _Am I one of these people?_ I _think we flirt all the time, but does she?_ The sun moved slowly down the orange sky outside.

"I know it's, like, pretty shitty to complain about two, like, incredible friends who would probably both be incredible lovers, but . . . how do I choose? I mean, I guess, I'd better just . . . find out if either of them likes me? Might be neither of them really does. Or just one. And then I don't have to choose shit, I guess. But, I can imagine the whole _thing_ with both of them, and it's hard to let go of the fantasy, y'know?"

"Rickon, are you listening?" Darkness was falling.

"Yeah, yeah, I am, Lyanna! It's just . . . I think I relate a little _too_ well." He swallowed.

"What? Like, you're _also_ crushing on two different people?" The electric lights of the shop were muted by the brightly colored, mismatched light fixtures above the tables. Her face looked green and orange, and part of him wished for paint to capture it. He couldn't tell if she was blushing.

"Well, I dunno if either of these girls feels the same about me, but . . . yeah, there's two girls I'd really like to, y'know, know better. Get closer to. Go out with, I guess? I hadn't really gotten to the stage of admitting it to anyone yet until you brought this up."

He fidgeted. Did he tell her he meant _her?_ He should. He should just say . . .

"Rickon, you're . . . one of those people for me." _Well._

"Really? Shit. I mean, great! I mean, yeah, uh. _Yeah_. You're . . . you're definitely one of those people for me too." He should have known she'd get there first. Despite the seriousness of Lyanna's tone, he grinned.

"Really?" Her gaze swung back and focused on him. It was intense, her eyes showing a depth of emotion that startled him. And . . . something else, too. Now he could see her cheeks pinking just slightly. Her mouth opened and she licked her lips, nervously, but also . . . Gods. _She wants me,_ he thought. _She really_ does _want me._ It sent a trickle of fire up his spine.

"So." She looked determined. "That's awesome. I'm glad I was honest with you about this because I also have pretty strong feelings about someone else and I can't . . . I just can't pretend I don't. At least not yet."

"Yeah. That's . . . reasonable. Maybe we should . . . like, each talk to our other . . . person, and . . . see? Right, because if we both get rejected, then we can . . . just find out whether this works, right? Like, together?"

"Uh, yeah . . ." Lyanna licked her lips again.

He stared. _I'm staring at her lips._ "And, um. If we don't. Then . . ."

"Yeah, _then._ Shit. I don't really . . . that's new territory for me. Like, I'd love to date both of you. But I don't want . . . anybody to feel, like, jealous, or bad or anything." She looked away, breaking the gaze. Her cheeks pinked more, the light making them look mostly orange, and a little furrow appeared on her brow.

 _Gods, she's so . . . formidable._ He couldn't stop thinking about her lips. _I want to kiss her,_ he thought. _Of course I want to kiss her, I've wanted to for moons._ He was exasperated that he felt surprised. It wasn't new, the feeling. But the _intensity_ of it . . . yeah, that was what was surprising.

"Well, that sounds kind of like polyamory. Or, ethical nonmonogamy? I mean, I never thought that was me. And I still, I feel . . . I want both of you but I don't really want anyone else. And sharing or whatever . . . sharing, uh, _you,_ with someone else might be . . . hard. But. I think it would be worth it, if that's what you wanted."

"Yeah, I kinda . . . feel like that, too. Like, I mean. I want . . . you. And I'd not really _love_ sharing, but . . . it might work. We could . . . try it." She looked at him again, and again he was pinioned by her gaze. She looked at him like a hawk at her prey. He shivered.

"Yeah. Yeah! Okay. Okay, that sounds . . . good. Gods, Lyanna, this is hard to talk about but I . . . you are awesome. I just want to say that you are _awesome_ and I really wanna . . . I mean, could I just kiss you?"

"Yeah. Sure."

It started tentatively. Slowly, they closed the space between them, leaning around from their chairs, and placed their lips together. More slowly, more _carefully,_ than Rickon had done much of anything in his life other than art, he pressed his lips into hers, moved his mouth against hers.

She opened her mouth to him and licked his lower lip slowly, gently, but confidently, and he responded. The kiss deepened and became wilder, tongues tangling and teeth biting lips. His spine was on fire. His _cock_ was on fire, and he needed to keep his head. Slowly they pulled back, both breathing harder.

"Wow, yeah, that's . . . I liked that a lot."

She smiled at him, her feral grin. "Yeah, I liked that too."

The sky was dark outside. Rickon felt blindsided. _I've got to talk to Shireen._

— — —

He texted her the minute he left the coffeeshop, heading to work the late shift at Gendry's. He knew he'd see her Friday at Arya and Gendry's house for dinner, their regular dinner, but he needed to talk to her alone. And . . . sooner than Friday. Much sooner, if possible. He needed to _know_ ; now that he'd opened this up with Lyanna he needed to _tell_ Shireen how he felt. Right away.

> Rickon: Shir, you got any time the next few days to meet up? Like, coffee or beers or pizza or something? Kinda need to chat

As usual, life didn't cater to the urgency Rickon felt about things. She responded hours later. He knew she sometimes took work home on the weekends, sometimes had things to do with her dad or the Seaworths, had a life . . . he couldn't help resenting whatever she was in the middle of that kept her from responding right away. But he managed to keep that out of his reply when she did.

> Shireen: You okay, Rick? Yeah, I can meet tomorrow or Tues. Got a family dinner (ugh) Wed and then working late on Thurs

He texted back on his break, quickly. Fortunately, she replied right away this time.

> Rickon: Yeah, I'm fine, no bail needed or anything :) Tomorrow? Meet me at my place after you get off work? I have the early shift and I can order some takeout, you want Braavosi?
> 
> Shireen: Sure! I can be there around 7?
> 
> Rickon: Cool Thx

He sighed, already impatient for tomorrow. He had no idea what he'd say, but he needed to say it already. He turned back to the shop and tried to put his nervous energy to work on the vehicles in the queue.

— — —

Shireen showed up at 7:13, just as the sunset was giving Rickon flashbacks of the day before and Lyanna's face in the coffeeshop window. He could hear her rushing up the stairs, her fast steps followed by her light knock. He let her in, grimacing that he once again hadn't nearly gotten his apartment decently clean. There were piles of clutter accumulated on the floor and the couch and his table, and the laundry basket near his bedroom door was overflowing. There were sketches and paintings and pencils, paints, markers _everywhere._

He liked his place, though; the furniture was mismatched but it was all comfortable and fit his tall frame, and the art on the walls was all his own, canvases and paper and scraps of wood with ink, paint, charcoal, marker; whatever had been handy at the time inspiration had struck and he'd _had_ to vomit it out into the world. It would look properly cool without the mess, he thought.

Gods, not that Shireen wasn't fully acquainted with his level of mess. She was his best friend, since he'd moved to Storm's End. Somehow, they'd ended up that way despite only knowing each other vaguely through Uncle Robert's family gatherings, to which Ned Stark, and all other Starks by extension, always had a standing invitation.

She'd always just been the quiet girl with the scars who always left early when her dad, Stannis, got sick of listening to Robert's loud stories and lewd jokes. He'd always been the youngest, wildest Stark, always tearing about with a wolf or chasing after his siblings or falling off of something.

He'd looked her up on his Dad's advice (which he certainly didn't always take, so, really, a whim) to "check in on Stannis's girl." His mother had said she was "a nice girl" with that tone that meant he should look into meeting a _nice girl_ sometime, rather than the series of short-lived romances with wild or loud or strange girls he'd had in high school.

Surprisingly, despite being six years older than him, quiet, serious, and responsible (everything Rickon was traditionally _not_ ), she was incredible. As smart as Sansa, as serious and thoughtful as Bran, with a little of Arya's take-no-shit attitude and a wry, dry humor that would have been easy to miss if he'd been paying less attention. But from the time they had first met up a week after him arriving in Storm's End last winter, less than a year out of high school, to work for Gendry and save up for his (more or less) secret dream, he'd been captivated by her.

Now, how did he tell his best friend he _wanted_ her, but also wanted his other best friend, but he was really serious about it, about both of them, and not in a hey-I've-got-this-fantasy way, in a really, _I think I might love you_ kind of way, _but I love her too?_ Fuck. _How?_

He tried to make small talk as they sat down, spooning Braavosi food out of cartons onto each of their plates under the lamp at his dinner table. He knew she could see it—his nervous energy, his shifty gaze. He was shit at hiding his moods. He couldn't even really try. He started stuffing his face with food, relieved that he could always seem to eat, even when his guts were churning with butterflies.

"Shir, I . . . shit."

Better take a page from Lyanna and be straight about it. He took a breath, looked at her, and tried again.

"Well. I think . . . I might really have it bad for, um, someone. Well, that's the problem. Um, _two_ someones. Um."

Several emotions flitted across the right side of her face, and the part of the left side that could move twisted to keep up. Quickly, it went blank again. _Does she know?_ He needed to be more clear.

She breathed evenly. "You've _got it_ for someone, two people, Rick? You're, like, in love with two girls?" Her voice wasn't completely even. She squeaked a little. Her right cheek blushed a little, too. "That sounds, um. Like trouble. Like _you._ " She laughed, a little too quickly, but genuine. It was already dark outside, somehow. _Just say it, Rickon._

"I mean . . . _you._ And, um, someone else. Shit."

Now the emotions chased each other across her face. They moved just as fast but she didn't hide them this time. "You're . . . you've got it bad for . . . _me,_ Rick?" She squeaked, almost choking on her food. Then, " _And_ another girl?"

Rickon knew he needed to speak, now. His tongue tied. He opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again. Fortunately, he was good at talking, even when he was terrible at knowing what to say. He pushed words out, trying to sort them out as they came.

"I . . . I . . . for a long . . . uh, a long time? Since I've been here, really. I've been, um, flirting, I think? Liking you, that way? Just . . . I know you so well now, and you're . . . _everything,_ you're _so_ smart, and _so_ funny, and _so_ beautiful, and I, I just, yeah. I really like you. And I, like, really hadn't got up the courage to say that, yet, but. It's true. And . . .gods, I do _also_ feel that way about someone else. And I know that's kind of _shit_ but I can't, I just, I _really_ have to be honest and tell you the truth right now, and I . . . fuck, I really, _really,_ don't want to hurt you."

"And she's. Well, she's . . . amazing too. Different from you, but really cool, really awesome, and . . . yesterday I had this conversation with her and she point-blank told me she likes me but _also_ someone else, so. Well. That was surprising, and I told her that I liked you too, I mean, I told her that I like her and _also_ you; I mean, I didn't tell her your name, because she knows you, and I wanted to talk to you; I mean, I really felt like I _needed_ to talk to you and tell you this like _right away_ after that, and we, like, both agreed that we should each talk to our other person and then we'd see what happened, and . . ."

"I don't really know how to say this right, Shir. Would you, like, be interested in me? Even though I'm a shit, all-over-the-place human who can't, like, even just have the decency to be in love with only one person at a time?"

"But I'm . . . Okay, Rick. Okay. I'm going to . . ." She took a deep breath. "I mean, I . . . _yeah,_ I like you. Too. And, yeah, I . . . sort of . . . understand. Um. Did you know that I'm not straight?"

" _What?_ Oh, shit, Shir, I didn't mean to . . ."

"No, no, Rick, I mean, I'm not a lesbian, and when I say I like you too, I mean that, like you mean it? I think? But I'm, I'm _also_ not straight. I mean, I _also_ like girls. Well: _a_ girl. Whom I've had a big crush on for a while, now. So, like, I mean, I guess that's pretty . . . um, similar? To what you are talking about?"

"And I haven't really, like, um. Told anyone? I mean, about liking either of you, but . . . also, not about . . . liking girls, in general? I just, I'm not, like, _worried_ about telling anyone in particular, but it sort of never did actually come up before, so, I haven't, like, even told Dad or Renly, or, like anyone? Or _you,_ even, until now, I guess?"

She looked really flustered, and he knew she was really serious, but it was _so_ damn adorable. And he wanted to hold her. And kiss her. _Gods._

"Wow, Shir, well, I mean, thanks! For like, telling me that, and trusting me, and . . . really, you _do_ like me?" His voice might have squeaked too, he thought. "Even though I'm, like a hothead and a pipsqueak, and undereducated and shit?" The first two were perfectly reasonable _terms of endearment_ that had become staples in their friendship, since no one who knew Rickon would ever deny his hotheadedness and he was, in fact, six years her junior, which had never been the impediment either of them would have expected to their friendship, but he had imagined _could_ be, possibly, to her ability to look at him romantically. It was more his own insecurity that led him to mention the last, because she was, like most people in Rickon's life, _college-educated,_ while he was just a mechanic (at least for now).

"Uh, yeah, definitely." She was blushing furiously now. "But, like, if I'm into this girl, and I _really_ am, too, I've got this feeling, like, I don't know, like . . . I've never really, like, _been_ with a girl and I don't want to, like, lose that chance. So maybe it's . . . good that you like someone else too? I mean, if she . . . if I even have a chance with her, I mean, we haven't talked about, she doesn't even know I'm . . . Gods, Lyanna's . . ."

 _"Lyanna?"_ Rickon's mouth fell open.

"Um. Yes. Lyanna Mormont. I, um, like her. And you, Rick. I like you."

 _"Lyanna. Lyanna Mormont."_ He stared. He needed to explain: her expression had changed and she was cringing.

"Lyanna." _Gods, Rick, pick some other word and start talking._ "She's. I mean. She's who. She's who I've been talking about. Who I like. Besides you."

"Whom." Shireen's face was a storm again, emotions flicking too fast across it for him to track.

"What?"

"Shit, sorry, that's just _Dad_ in my head. You, you like _Lyanna?_ Too?" She settled on shocked.

"Yeah." It was crazy. He shook his head, but he couldn't suppress the grin that split his face. "Lyanna." Wait. "Well. Lya's bi, too."

"Yeah, I kinda thought she was probably gay, in fact."

"What? No. But I know she likes girls."

"How do you know she's not . . . oh, right." She grinned back. "She likes you." They were laughing now, unable to keep it in.

"Yeah and she's like, real close with Bran, remember? They were in WU together, and they're still really good friends? Which is how she made friends with me. So I know, like, her dating history." He saw the sudden question on her face. "No, no, she and Bran never . . . _no._ They're buds. Y'know. But she dated both guys and girls in college, and I've heard plenty of stories from Bran and, more recently, from her."

"Right."

"D'you think her . . . other . . . person . . . do you think Lyanna might've been talking about _you,_ Shir? I know you, like, hang out with her, and, and work with her, but . . ."

She froze. Her eyes were suddenly huge. "I mean. I doubt it. Like, we hang out after work, and, like, go to lunch and stuff. She seems to like me—I mean, we're definitely friends. And I know she likes girls. Like, she's mentioned it. To me. But. I didn't, like, I didn't tell her that I do, too. I just . . . I didn't say, one way or the other. So I haven't been able to tell whether we've been flirting or just . . . becoming good friends? Which is my fault, but I just, hadn't quite gotten there, y'know?" She breathed deeply again. Headlights passed in the window, throwing light across their faces.

"Well. Shir, I think, well. D'you want to find out? In light of . . . today's developments? Because, well. You and I like each other, now, right?" He ticked off on his fingers and gave her a dashing—well, probably stupid-looking—grin. " _And_ we both also like the same girl." His grin got bigger.

" _And_ she definitely likes someone else. Shit, Shir, I'm such a . . . dude. A misogynist? I assumed she meant a guy, even though I _know_ she likes girls too, because, because I'm me—a dude—and I pictured her crushing on some other guy, and then I tried _not_ to picture it, and didn't think about it too hard. But. She said _person._ She said _people, I like two people,_ and she never said _guy._ Or _girl,_ for that matter, but."

He ran out of steam. Shireen's expression was wavering between hysterical and terrified. He knew that action needed to be taken.

"I think we should find out."

"How?" Her voice was small.

"I mean, I could just text her. Like, 'Hey Lyanna, is Shireen Baratheon that other person you were talking about because . . .'" he stopped at her expression.

"Nononono, Rickon, you can't just. No. I mean, if I were a _little_ more sure . . . no. Damn. I'm going to have to do this myself, aren't I?" Her eyes were still huge. Huge and dark and very blue. And beautiful.

"Hey, Shir, it's going to be okay. You should just keep it simple. Like, 'Hey, Lyanna, wanna chat?' and go from there, right? Deep breaths. Right?" He smiled at her, their smile of encouragement, the well-known smile that he'd smiled so many times in the past eight moons, and she breathed, and smiled back. And looked at his smile. Looked at his _lips. Gods._

"Shir, can I kiss you? Like, can I just kiss you and then we'll try to figure this out and hope for the best but still, y'know, be there for each other and . . . can I?

"Yes, Rick, I'd like that."

And then he got up and walked to her chair and leaned down to kiss her. And their lips met and _gods_ , for the second time that week fire engulfed him. He looked into her ridiculously deep blue eyes and he licked her mouth and they touched each other's tongues gently, tenderly but exploring, wanting more, deeper, and . . . her phone chimed. She jumped, although she didn't exactly stop kissing him either. He could tell it distracted her, and his cock was starting to get ideas, so he moved back, slowly, and ended their kiss gently. Breathing. Flushed.

He could see the truth of it, now, on her face. That she did really want him, _like_ him. He hadn't even realized he'd been afraid it wasn't true. Shireen didn't lie, he knew. If she said she liked him, she did. But he just hadn't _really_ totally believed it until he could feel it on her lips, and see it in her cheeks. Gods. _Gods._ What _had he gotten himself into?_

Her phone chimed again. With a start he remembered what had distracted her, and he watched Shireen check her phone, mumbling something about not knowing who . . . and then her face went white, and then pink. Well, most of it; her scars stayed the same. Her eyes got huge again and then she shoved the phone in his face.

> Lyanna: Hey, Shireen, wanna chat? Like, I'm working late tomorrow, but maybe lunch, I could do lunch? Or Wed?
> 
> Lyanna: I'm out with Jory and Lyra right now, they're visiting, we've been drinking, so, I can't chat now but I really want to talk to you about something. Is that weird? I mean is that okay?

"Oh, gods, Rick, what if it _is_ me? This is going to be weird. Either way, now, it's going to be _weird,_ because now I've got this idea that it _might_ be me and I'm going to be disappointed if that's not what she wants to say and _how_ am I going to hide that and I _can't_ talk to her right now because she's _drunk_ and shit. Shit! Gods!"

"It's okay, Shir. Breathe."

She breathed.

Rickon pulled his own phone from his pocket and gestured questioningly at her. She stared, but slowly nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. He typed out a message quickly, keeping it simple.

> Rickon: Lya, is Shireen the other person. That you like?

She hesitantly opened her eyes when his phone chimed.

> Lyanna: Um. Yes. HOW did you know that Rickon?? I thought I was being secretive? I don't even know if she likes girls tho

He held up his phone.

Shireen's eyes were dinner plates.

> Rickon: Um. Because. She's here with me now and we were just having a conversation. You know. A conversation that you and I discussed. Because, she

"Crap, I pushed send."

> Rickon: She is that person. That other person for me. Too
> 
> Lyanna: What. RICKON. We like the same girl? Oh shit. I am too drunk for this. Aaaaaaahhhhh

Shireen read over his shoulder. Then she took a deep breath, and started typing.

> Shireen: Yes. Sure. We can chat! But, Lya, I should just tell you that Rick is here with me right now and he showed me his phone and I, shit, I DO like girls and I do like YOU specifically and I want to talk to you about that but he already told me enough that I can't wait until tomorrow to say that. Sorry I'm saying it over text
> 
> Shireen: I like you a lot; also, I like Rickon. Also a lot
> 
> Shireen: Maybe we should all talk about this? I know you're busy tomorrow and I have a family dinner Wed night but maybe I can get out of it
> 
> Lyanna: AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! Shireen I like you so much! And Rick too, omg omg OMG can you? Get out of your dinner? I think we really need a conference

Rickon read over Shireen's shoulder until his phone chimed again.

> Lyanna: Rick we like the same girl and SHE LIKES US BACK! We need to kiss and high five! At the same time! AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! Lyra and Jory are SCREAMING right now!

He locked eyes with Shireen. She was flushed (so was he) and her eyes were bright. A huge grin split Rickon's face and Shireen's mirrored it, except that hers was lopsided. He felt wild, like he'd been running flat-out with Shaggydog or like when he went cliff-diving with Robb and Theon. _Holy shit. What happens now?_

— — —


	2. SHIREEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conference, decisions, and communication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really TRIED to have this perfect before posting it, but I still find I'm making small edits (in my obsessive way); in particular I fixed one obvious error in the last chapter where Lyanna asked Shireen if she was free the next day but then later was busy that day.
> 
> I'm still learning this; please feel free to comment if you see any other errors or have opinions!

— — —

On Wednesday night, they met at Rickon's place. Shireen felt a little bad that she'd bailed on her dad, because he _hated_ family dinners with his brothers and that was why she usually went. And that she'd basically pulled an excuse out of her ass, but . . . she couldn't exactly explain _this_. Not when she wasn't sure yet what _this_ even was besides some kind of weird terrifying fantasy-come-true involving _both_ of her best friends and _kissing_ and . . . well. Whatever was going to happen. Tonight.

The air wasn't chilly yet. But the oppressive heat of late summer was gone, and she wasn't coated in sweat just from the short walk. She felt like she'd feel comfortable, if she weren't so damn nervous.

 _Gods, what if this all goes tits up? Will I lose my friends?_ She hadn't meant for it to all come out yet; but she couldn't take it back now. She just had to hope they were all adults enough to recover their friendships if this went badly. Oddly, even though Rick was the baby among them (Lyanna was only a year younger than Shireen), she wasn't really worried about him. About staying friends with him, anyway. He just didn't seem like the type to _get weird_ ; he was always weird, he always wore his heart on his sleeve, and she knew he'd just—flail around until they reached equilibrium again.

But her friendship with Lyanna, though it had gotten started last year, still felt _newer_ : more fragile. They'd started out slowly and hadn't been hanging out outside of work yet for more than a few moons. She never quite knew what Lya was thinking. So, well, hopefully it would be okay. She ran past the big maple tree and up the stairs and knocked the way she always did so he'd know it was her.

And there was Rick, opening the door with his same nervous, stupid grin from Monday night. There was the same apartment, full of evening light and art on every wall, all Rick's beautiful drawings and paintings he sweated out as though he _needed_ to. Animals and faces and quiet scenes and crowded fantastical scapes. She knew if she came back next week, there'd probably be another. She didn't know Rick's plans for the future, yet, but she could tell he had them, and she could tell they involved this passion of his.

And there . . . there was Lyanna. _Breathe, Shireen._ Lyanna, who _had_ been flirting all this time—Rick had _said_ she _had—_ and who not only flirted with Shireen, but _wanted_ Shireen in the same way she wanted Rick. In the same way they _both_ wanted Rick. Lyanna, whose gaze was now piercing her: serious, but . . . glittering with something.

"Uh, Shir, hey! There's, pizza, uh . . . yeah, come join, we got some with onions and olives and artichoke for you." Rick's grin was stuck there, it seemed. _I mean, to be fair, he is, like, living the dream. I mean, two girls? Who both like him,_ want _him, here, in his living room?_

If she didn't know him, like, extremely well, she'd be worried about who he'd go bragging to. But Rick was . . . well. She wouldn't call it _honorable,_ exactly. But he was very honest. And straightforward, as if it was the only way he could be. And he didn't brag. Like ever. Well, except about feats of physical daring, usually involving jumping off of things, or running, or his ridiculously large black wolf back in Winterfell. Yeah: they'd be okay.

She sat down stiffly, nervous, in the evening light, at the table Rick had cleaned off since the last time she was here, and grabbed two slices of pizza, and she wasn't even sure which one of them to thank for knowing her favorite toppings, so she just said "Thanks" in the general direction of both of them. And looked at Lyanna some more.

"Shireen. So." Lyanna broke her silence, her eyes still glittering. "Yeah. So, you really do? Like me? Like, Rickon told you that I'm really, really serious about this, about, um, both of you and you are . . . down? For whatever this is?"

"Uh. Yeah. I like you, Lya. A lot. And . . . and I guess we have to talk about what this is. But, yeah, I think I'm in. If we can find something here that works for us all?"

Rickon stuttered his way into the conversation. "So, like, first off, we, like, don't need to really worry about, like, polyamory here? Like, I mean, _two girls_ is really enough for me, and, I mean, if _us_ , if _this_ , is enough for you guys too, then, uh, we shouldn't need to . . ." he ran out of steam. "Or," he rallied, "is that too much, too soon?"

Lyanna responded, eyes like a hawk. "Yeah. I mean. If this works. If it's, y'know, real. Then I only want to be with you two. At least until we can tell whether it will work. More would be really confusing; there's no one else I want anyway, and this is confusing enough."

They both looked at Shireen. She squeaked "Yeah!" She breathed, and then tried again. "I am content to be—well, not monogamous, but—whatever the equivalent is with just the two of you—if this works."

_Gods._

"And . . . I really need to move a little, um, slowly," Shireen continued. "I, um, don't have experience with," she glanced toward Lyanna, "um, half of this, and I . . . I just don't want to, um, go too fast. Is that okay?" her pitch got higher as she squeaked to a stop.

Lya's gaze got less hawkish and her eyes softened. She reached out to touch Shireen's arm. Her touch felt like _lightning,_ just a soft touch at her wrist, gods, they'd touched so much more than _that_ before, but this was _different,_ this was _knowing_ that Lya _wanted_ her, that Lya really did, and gods, _wow._ "Sure, of course, Shir, _of course._ It's probably smart for all of us to take this slow. And, to . . . uh, talk about it? As much as we can? So that we're all on the same page and we don't . . . get confused or . . . or jealous, I guess?"

She said the last bit quietly, but Shireen sighed in relief. Yes, _that_ was what they should worry about, and now that it had been said out loud, she felt less afraid of it. How would she feel about the . . . feelings between Lya and Rick? Theoretically, she cared strongly for both of them, and the _idea_ of them caring about each other just filled her with . . . warmth? But in the real, physical world, would it bother her to see it? To watch them kiss? Maybe that was a good place to start.

"Um, Lya, um, can we . . . can I kiss you? And then maybe we can all just, um, kiss each other and um, and see how it makes us, uh, feel, I guess? Like, about each other . . . I mean, like how I feel about you two kissing and how you each feel about . . . ?"

Rick's grin got bigger. Lya smiled. Grinned. Shireen grinned, too, and they began laughing. And then, and _then,_ Lya got up and walked over to Shireen, and . . . _Shit!_ She stood up, too quickly, knocking over the chair. They all laughed again, and Shireen leaned down toward her, and Lya touched Shireen's face—the dead side, the _ugly_ side, that _no one_ ever touched _(not even sweet Ned had ever_ touched _them),_ or usually even really looked at—and kissed her.

And, _gods,_ it was heaven. So _soft._ Lya's lips just . . . brushed hers, and then they pressed into Shireen's mouth and her tongue flashed out and politely asked to be let in and Shireen opened her mouth and . . . then it was her, Shireen, grabbing Lyanna's hair, gently, pulling her in, up, pushing her tongue into Lyanna's mouth, hungry, almost biting, not quite biting, her soft lips. Gods, the lightning had turned into heat deep in her belly. And it built, and she was so _warm._

She forgot to look at Rickon until he made a noise. A choked little noise like he was trying not to make a noise. When she looked up, the grin was still there. But his eyes were really big. He looked at their kiss. At their _lips_ , still locked on one another's. And _gods,_ did him _looking_ at their lips really just make her feel . . . hotter? That heat that bled down into her, increase? Gods, she looked back into Lyanna's eyes and saw, reflected there, pure fucking _want_ and she could almost _see_ Lya's want for her, for Shireen, and Lya's want for Rick, there too, like two layers of glitter in her ridiculously glittery eyes, and . . . _Gods._ Shireen broke the kiss and gasped for air.

Lya spoke first. "Well, Rick? Objective opinion on watching that?" She grinned wickedly while Rick sputtered and tried to look less stupid and turned on. He thought about it. "Uh, I uh, I liked watching that. A lot. Objectively. I might also have felt a little tiny bit jealous. But like, I think, in a way that . . . adds rather than subtracts? Maybe? I mean, I could see how it would hurt me if you two, like, chose each other over me. Well. And that would hurt a lot, but if I can . . . believe you really want me too, which at the moment I think I _can,_ sort of, because you _did both_ kiss me already," he grinned, "then, I think, I, uh, it's _really hot._ " He came to a stop. "Gods, I _tried_ to be articulate, but _gods!_ That was _hot._ " The grin, again.

Shireen took a deep breath, and walked over to Rick, who was still sitting at the table. And leaned over, and kissed him. Harder this time than she had the first time, and touching his neck, his hair, which she had just _always_ wanted to run her fingers through, and which felt just as soft and silky and fiery as it looked, and kissing him, opening his mouth to her, and again it was lightning, shocking her skin, her lips, her core. His lips were firmer than Lya's soft ones, his smile still there in the shape of the kiss, and then, gods, he reached out to touch her, and he ran his fingers along her jawline and up to her ears. _On both sides._ And, shit, she was really going to have to unpack her feelings about her scars and _two_ people touching them in _one day_ but _later._

She chanced a look over at Lyanna, who looked like she was . . . evaluating, but with all that glitter in her gaze that Shireen was starting to interpret as . . . lust? Want. Whatever she was feeling, it didn't seem too different from what she'd felt when she looked at Shireen a few minutes ago. Shireen and Rick pulled back, breathed deeply, looked at Lyanna.

"Yeah." She answered the unspoken question. "Hot." Her gaze shone. "Uh, really _hot_ ; Rick, _how_ did you have words after that? I can like, see all kinds of really smutty things in my head right now, and in the interest of, like, taking it slow and all, I'm going to, like, _not_ go into detail on those, but, uh, _wow._ "

Lyanna stopped talking and walked over next to where Shireen was standing. She leaned down (not very far, since she was so much shorter than Shireen, and even more so compared to Rick), and kissed Rickon. _Right there, right_ in front of Shireen. And, shit, she was not prepared. It was a shock, somehow. Her two best friends, her two _best_ friends, kissing with such want and such heat and the lust in the room just dripping and somehow, somehow, it wasn't weird, it just _wasn't,_ because she knew, or she hoped, no, she _knew,_ at least right this second, that she was included. That it was about them but it was also about her and that made it different. And it made her want them. _Gods,_ want them both and wish both pairs of lips were on hers but also, also, she felt content, watching. Enjoying their kiss, from the outside, because it still _felt_ like the inside.

She watched their lips slide across each other's and their tongues taste and their hands touch hair and Rick pulled Lya's neck a little towards him and then first Lya's and then Rick's eyes looked at Shireen. And it burned, looking back at them, it _melted_ her and then they broke apart and kept _looking_ at her and she wondered, idly, how she wasn't a puddle on the floor.

"Ugh, yeah, okay, wow, I don't have like, good words either, okay? It was awesome. Watching my two best friends kiss each other and feeling fucking _included_ in a kiss taking place in front of me was fucking _awesome_ and I'm, like, I'm a _puddle_ over here, okay? _Gods!_ " She felt her face flaming. This was incredible.

"I mean, yes; it's also scary. I'm, I mean, I'm not, I'm not, like, gorgeous like the two of you, and if I let myself think about it too long I get a little insecure and scared that you'll notice that I'm not, like, _worthy_ or some shit, but I'm trying to not go there, and I need to unpack some feelings about you both _touching_ my damn _scars_ , but I think, overall, I'm really fucking enjoying this moment." She took a breath.

Both Lyanna and Rick looked shocked. Whether it was over something specific she'd just said, or just because of how many words had come out of her usually taciturn mouth at once, she wasn't sure.

Lyanna opened her mouth, shut it, and opened it again. When she spoke, it was softer than her usual tone. "Do you not want us to touch your scars, Shir? Does it . . . gods, I never asked, does it hurt, or, or, is it emotional, or . . . You can tell us if you don't want that, Shir." Gentle. Not pitying, though. Shireen was relieved not to hear _that_ in her tone.

Rick just nodded, waiting to hear what Shireen would say.

She took another breath. "No. No, it was . . . fucking wonderful, okay, but like . . . I might _cry_ level wonderful and I feel, I don't know, a little sad that that is what that feels like but _no one, no one,_ shit, _ever,_ like _no one ever_ touches them and they don't hurt and I can only feel a little bit there but there's like a touch starvation that I didn't really think about I guess and now I feel embarrassed that _that's_ what I'm talking about right now and not _your lips_ because _fuck_ I really like your lips. You know," she gestured a little wildly towards Rick's and Lyanna's mouths, "all four of them." And then she giggled, the tears that had filled her eyes trickling out the sides as she started to shake with mirth.

The sunrise shone in Lyanna's smile, and Rickon's looked, well, goofy, but also beautiful, and they chuckled with her, and the moment was not ruined. It was lovely, it was sacred, they heard her and took her feelings seriously without freaking out about them, and it was wonderful.

Rickon spoke quietly. "Uh, Shireen, um, I don't know what you're on about, unless it's the scars again, but, um, I really like them and, you, you're gorgeous, okay, you're like . . . really, really beautiful and I can see in your face you don't believe me and I want to punch someone and I don't know who told you you're not, but you _are,_ okay? You're gorgeous." He looked serious, but his eyes were still big and his smile was still there, a little.

Lyanna nodded. Her eyes went back to hawk-glittering. "You are, like, one of the hottest girls I've ever seen, babe. Like, tall, and lean, and muscular, and delicate, and _gods,_ your _eyes_ and your fucking _fierce_ stare. Gods. Shireen, yeah. Believe us. Or at least try, okay?"

Shireen was _really_ trying not to cry again. She didn't want to be the center of attention. She couldn't one hundred percent believe them, not right away. But neither one was prone to lying, like, at all. That she knew of. So she could, probably, believe that _they_ believed what they were saying. Which was definitely enough, for now. They both _wanted_ her, and that was amazing. And good. Now she just needed to change the damn subject. She nodded.

"Well, okay. But you are both gorgeous. As well, then." She tried, lamely, but they grinned, and they were _right there_ , and suddenly she knew the best way to distract them. She put her right hand on Rick's shoulder, and her left on Lya's arm, and she pulled them towards her gently, until their three faces were close together, and they awkwardly kissed, smushing their faces against each other and trying to reach each other's mouths rather than the air between them; mostly succeeding.

"So, like," Shireen began, when they'd explored the tender awkwardness of trying to kiss each other all at once, " _this_ is what this is, then right?" She tried again, "The _three_ of us? Like, together? Rather than, rather than, like, three pairs of us? Or . . . right?"

Rickon and Lya nodded, tentatively. "Yeah. Um, like, we should probably, like, try to hang out, like, all three of us, like, on purpose, to, like, um . . . _be_ this? _Grow_ this? Like, um, dates? Maybe?" Rick tried. The sunset was there, through the windows, again. The walls were tinged with it and Rick's charcoal drawing of a massive wolf rolling in the mud was spotlighted on the wall.

"Yeah." Shireen hadn't really thought about the fact that the _three_ of them had hardly spent any time together, really. Rick was her best friend, since he'd come to Storm's End eight and a half moons ago; at least since they'd started hanging out all the time, which was pretty soon after that, really: she'd been lonely since Devan was busy all the time and their friendship had just kind of . . . _stalled_ and, well, then she just . . . had Rick. A new best friend, right away, somehow. And Lyanna was certainly her friend, her best friend at work, and they ate lunches together and had hung out plenty outside of work, too, but that relationship was still . . . growing, she figured, and now there was more to it, of course.

And she'd been aware, of course, that they, Rick and Lya, knew each other, were friends. Because of Bran, who'd been Lyanna's good friend up in Winterfell, before she'd moved here. Was still, probably. And that they had been hanging out a lot, together, for a while, probably almost as long as Shireen and Rick had been. And since, well, recently, just two moons or so ago, when she'd started being invited to Arya and Gendry's because, well, she'd finally processed the information that she had all these _cousins_ and that one of them (Gendry) was _right here,_ in Storm's end, and was in love with Rick's _sister,_ for the gods' sake, so she ought to just _know_ him, at least, Robert and Cersei and even Dad's hangups be damned, well, in that context all three of them were there. Together.

But not _alone_ together. This. This . . . meeting . . . was, she thought, the first time that _that_ had happened. So yeah. Maybe there should be plans, in order to ensure that it did happen more, because they had already covered _exclusivity,_ gods' sake, and that meant they were all _dating_ , at least, didn't it?

"Yeah." She tried again. "Like . . . dates." And she smiled.

Then she realized. _Shit._ "But first, because you're working late tomorrow, Lya, and then, it's Friday, first, we have to somehow act normal, around, around Gendry and . . . and _Arya._ " Because _Arya_ would know, there was _no way_ Arya wouldn't know something was up. If all three of them were there, together; hell, even if one or two of them skipped out, even if only _one_ of them was there, there was no way out of getting cross-examined by the astute absolute _demon_ that was Arya Stark when she smelled something juicy. This, Shireen knew, despite being the person in this room who knew Arya least well, by far.

She could see, on Lyanna's and, especially, Rickon's faces, that she was right. _Oh shit,_ both faces said back to her. "Oh shit!" Rickon said, out loud.

"Or we could just . . . tell them? I mean," she stalled at their shock, "I know, I know I was the one to say, uh, that we should take it slow, but I meant, well. I meant, mostly, like, _physically._ And, um, we already basically talked about . . . exclusivity?" Was it getting easier to articulate her thoughts, or was it just that the idea of _Arya_ had thrown a bucket of icewater over the heat that had collected in her core and thus allowed her to put two thoughts together?

"I mean, I think, I mean, that probably means that we're, uh, dating, right? And it's not, um, ideal to tell anyone, really, yet, but Arya's, well. She'll have it out of us, won't she? So is it better to just, grab the bull by the horns?" She looked at Rick. It was his family that it would get directly back to; but Lyanna was the first to answer.

"Well, Lyra and Jory already have some info, so." She looked a little guilty. "I mean, I was drunk and needed their help to, like, get up the guts to ask you, Shir. I mean, I told Rick I would, and I didn't want to tell him _who,_ partly because, like, I didn't want to _out_ you and I didn't even know if I _was_ outing you or not, so, I um. Drunkenly asked them. For advice." Her face had gone past pink into red now.

Shireen hurried to put her at ease. "That's just . . . fine, Lya, it's fine. I'm not scared of being outed and I'd rather people know. It's just weird now because I'm, um, it's tangled up with outing _us,_ now, right, kinda?" She grimaced. "Ugh, this is why I should have done the thing and made a big deal out of outing myself before. I knew there must be a reason why people do that. But I just. I. I'm just _very bad_ at drawing any sort of attention to myself, y'know?"

They both just nodded. They did, really: they _got_ her like that. It was a really nice feeling, to know that. "I'll . . . talk to Dad, at least. I'll make a point of . . . outing myself, to him, before I have to tell him about _us,_ because _that_ will be hard. So I'll just do _me,_ with him, for now. And, shit, _Renly,_ because he'll be mad I didn't tell him first. Shit, sorry, I'm still talking. Rick, what about Arya? Should we just . . . all skip? Wait a week?"

Rick looked thoughtful, and scared, and happy, and . . . a bit crazed. The grin was still there. She knew that gleam: it often preceded Rick's more foolhardy adventures. "I mean, you're not wrong, Shireen. About Arya. She'll get it out of us. If we don't show, she'll just cross-examine us via text." They all groaned. That was probably true.

"And, y'know," Rickon continued, "It's . . . I mean, it's new, but . . . I think no one will expect it to last, so. If it doesn't, I mean, no one will cry. Except us, probably." Crazed grin. "So, like, might as well get the shock out of the way sooner, then?"

He went on, "It will spread. My family can't shut up to each other. But the sheer . . . weirdness of it means maybe they won't tell Mom and Dad right away. And they know you are both good people. All those of them that know you, anyway, so . . . maybe they'll overlook that there's two of you a bit in light of my . . . better choices there?" Shireen had heard a few stories about his previous relationships, and he had a point. Not that they'd been _bad_ people, but . . . well, probably not Catelyn Stark's favorite people, anyway.

"Are you my . . . _significant others,_ then?" Lya, looking like she was trying Rick's crazed grin on for size. "My, um, boyfriend? And girlfriend?" She grinned wider.

"Can we say that, when we've only kissed each other?" Shireen hated the doubt in her voice.

"Oh, yeah, we can. It's no one's business what _acts_ we've done but ours." Lya, definitively. Okay then. Shireen breathed. Yes.

Rickon was nodding vigorously, still grinning. "You're my girlfriends? I have _two girlfriends?_ " The grin was obnoxiously wide. Lya nodded back.

Shireen surprised herself by grinning, too, and nodding. "Yeah. Okay." They looked like a bunch of drunken fools. Friday. _Gods._

— — —

"Dad? How was dinner? She was radiating nervous energy, she knew, so she didn't want to waste time. Best to get this conversation out of the way before he had a chance to worry about what had her buzzing like this. It was late and they would each retire to their own rooms soon; Dad would put in some hours on work that somehow couldn't wait until tomorrow, and be grouchy if interrupted.

"It was fine, Shireen. Your uncles send their love. Well, Renly does. And Loras." The dark apartment and the warm light cast shadows that almost made even Stannis's features a little soft.

"I'm sure Uncle Robert would have too, if he'd stopped talking long enough to remember I exist, Dad." It was quiet; she could hear cars on the street occasionally, and the quiet burble of her turtle Garin's tank.

Stannis gave that twitch of his lips that would have been a laugh, in anyone else. It was comfortable, talking to her Dad. Even when she wasn't. Which was part of why she still lived here, with him. They were both so completely _familiar_ to each other, she supposed.

"It wasn't too interminable?" Shireen smiled at him.

"No, we wrapped up early because Loras has some deadline." He looked relived.

"Oh, good." She stalled.

"Did you want to talk about something, Shireen?" A sharp glance. He could tell; of course he could.

"Uh, yeah, Dad. I just, uh, realized today I never bothered to tell you I like girls. Like, um, along with guys. Um, not, uh, _all_ of them, I just mean, ugh. Uh, yeah, I'm bisexual, Dad."

"Oh." He blinked. He was like, the _opposite_ of Arya, so at least that was in her favor.

"I just, I mean, I'm going to, um, tell some people? Well, Renly, at least, because he'll be mad if I don't? My friends, and stuff? So I just, uh, I wanted to tell you first." _Because you're my dad,_ she thought but didn't say. _Because you and I are a family. Our whole family, really._

"Oh." Dad, ever eloquent. "Okay, Shireen. Thank you for telling me."

He looked awkward, like he didn't know what else to say, so she gave him one of those quick hugs that they both always acted awkward about but actually enjoyed, and said, "I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, Shireen." Never one for pet names, Stannis Baratheon.

— — —

> Shireen: Um, hey uncle! Sorry I missed the dinner!
> 
> Renly: Hey, baby niece! Missed ya! Hope everything is okay?
> 
> Shireen: Yeah. Yeah, everything is fine. Look, I just told Dad but I think you're like the other main family member that needs to be informed (gods I'm a weird texter) but, um, hey, I'm bisexual, did you know that?
> 
> Renly: What! What! Hey! I'M NOT THE ONLY QUEER BARATHEON! HEEEEEEEEY! Sweeeeeeet! Oh, I'm so proud of you my little baby niece!
> 
> Shireen: Well, I'm not sure there's anything to really be proud of yet, uncle, but I am glad you consider me to be on your team
> 
> Renly: YESSSSSS! Queers vs. straights! We will dominate! Wait, can I tell Loras?
> 
> Shireen: Yes, I consider telling you to be telling Loras. I wasn't really meaning to, y'know, keep it from anyone, I just, don't usually DO like announcements about myself
> 
> Renly: And that's where I see the Stannis in you. NOT that that's a bad thing (don't tell him I said that tho) Okay telling Loras now
> 
> Loras: Oooooooooooooh Shireen's been holding out on us honey! Shireen do you have a girlfriend? I mean, or just like, a lover, or ... I mean, why are you telling us this now? You'd have to have some kind of reason, right? Something's changed?
> 
> Shireen: I will neither confirm nor deny
> 
> Shireen: But it may be more complicated than you think
> 
> Renly: Cryptic
> 
> Loras: She got her some hot girl
> 
> Renly: Maybe, maybe. Let the baby have her secrets, we'll get them out of her eventually. Love you Shireen!
> 
> Shireen: Love you too, uncles :)

— — —


	3. LYANNA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner with Arya and Gendry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a little bit of smut in this one, though it may not be what you're expecting.

— — —

By the time she'd got home Thursday night, Lyanna was dead tired, just worn out and _done_ for the day. She'd flopped onto her ridiculously long couch next to her ridiculously large black cat, Bear, who'd given her a look, and carefully sat _next_ to her and waited for her to pet him. She'd stared at her walls, which were covered in a ridiculous number of bookshelves, and rubbed her temples.

It had been a _week_ at work, with unreasonable clients and the headaches of extra passes they'd caused, and the tension of _seeing_ Shireen without being able to really talk to her or . . . anything. Gods. And her dreams. Had been. Well. _Explicit,_ say. Full of lips and grins and skin and kisses and hair, raven and auburn, and scars. And, well. Limbs and breasts and sweat. And, _shit,_ she _could not_ be thinking about this right now.

But today, being Friday, had been better; the culture at the office was such that people were generally less stressed on Fridays, the projects being very rare that required any weekend hours. (From the editorial team, at least; she'd seen Shireen, who was the accountant at the little publishing house, take work home before, and hoped it wasn't too much. Nobody in the building really got paid enough to bust their asses _too_ hard.)

She'd left just a little early and she'd seen Shir on her way to the parking lot, and given her a friendly, work-safe hug, with maybe a little secret squeeze in it. And headed home to get ready for Arya-Gendry night. Which, for Lyanna, meant a quick shower to get _work_ off her, a don't-really-care selection of comfortable clothes (okay, maybe specifically with her plum sweater because it looked _good_ ), making sure Bear had food and water and ignoring his long-suffering stare, and a trip to the corner store for some beer to bring along. Gendry would have cooked something, and it would be enough for everyone. She'd been attending long enough to know that.

She walked, because it wasn't far from her place and she didn't want to drive home after drinking. Even though she really didn't intend to be _drunk._ The walk was pleasant; the leaves were just starting to turn in the trees along the sidewalk, and it gave her a little time to reflect, anyway. The problem was, when she started thinking about Shireen and Rickon and _holy shit, I have a boyfriend_ and _a girlfriend_ got finished repeating in her head, she just started feeling those kisses, _seeing_ those kisses again. Or worse, remembering last night's dreams. Or the ones from the night before. So she didn't get much actual thought put into how to escape unscathed from the clutches of Arya.

And then she was there, stomping up the steps to their little brown house, swinging through the white door after a shout of "Come in!" from inside, basking in the familiar warmth of this place that had immediately felt like _home_ when Bran had basically invited her over, remotely, once she'd arrived down in Storm's End two years and change ago. The comfy couch. The big sturdy table. The metal sculptures made of old car parts. The punching bag in the spare room.

Lyanna was early, which was atypical for her but not so unheard of as to raise an eyebrow from either of the residents. Nymeria bounded over while she took off her shoes, ecstatic to see her as usual. Rubbing Nymeria's belly, she thought about Rick's stories of his Shaggydog and how desperately he wanted to bring him down from Winterfell.

He said he needed to wait until he had a better place, where Shaggy could run around, and a good idea for how to really work on training him, because Shaggydog was still the wildest of the Starks' pups, and "wasn't exactly landlord-friendly" according to Rick. Lyanna put the beer on the counter and asked Gendry whether she could help with anything in the kitchen.

"Nah, love, you're fine, sit tight. It should be done in a few." Damn. That meant Arya.

"Hey, Arya! How were your classes this week?" Trying to get her talking rather than asking.

"Oh, they were good. Lot of students who are really _trying,_ y'know? Not so many of the _lazy ones_ who don't even remember to _go_ to the damn gym . . ." Her voice was pitched to carry. Guess Gendry must have skipped one of his days with Arya at the gym this week.

"Oi! I _told_ you I had to work!" out of the kitchen.

"I just give him shit because he expects it now, really," Arya stage-whispered conspiratorially. The door. Finally, someone else. Rickon.

He came bounding up the stairs, his energy always at max. "Arya, how's married life?"

" _Not married,_ you punk!" Arya rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, whatever, same thing." Rick singsonged at her. "Where's Gen? Lya! Love, hi!" and an enthusiastic greeting, a hug with a kiss on the cheek, more than usual for Rickon but not unusually so, and a nod at Arya's head-jerk toward Gendry in the kitchen. Hopefully no one noticed her slight flush at Rickon's proximity. Except for Rick himself, who was already grinning, damn him.

But then he was on the floor, rolling about with Nymeria, "Who's the _real_ reason I bother coming here! Isn't that right, Nym? Who's a good girl? Who is?" and being his own ridiculous goofy self and everything was normal again.

For a minute. Until Shireen arrived.

Maybe she couldn't hide her reaction to Shireen as well as she could the one she'd had to Rickon, or maybe it was just that they were _both_ here now, but the slight flush was gone and replaced with cheeks that she could feel flaming and spine tingling and _gods,_ her cunt was actually fucking _throbbing_ with want in the what? Thirty _seconds_ since Shir had arrived? What the fuck? She hugged Shireen, careful not to _fucking_ just reach out and grab her and kiss her hard right there like she _really_ wanted to do, and walked as calmly as she could to the kitchen to grab a beer.

She heard Rick yell, "Shir! Baby, how are you?" And anyone else calling Lya _Love_ and Shireen _Baby_ might have been a tip-off, but, yeah, not so much Rick. But then he looked at Lya, as she _calmly_ walked back into the room, and then at Shireen, where she was down greeting Nym, and grinned his crazy grin. And she was _fucking_ nervous, but also relieved to not have to wait any later to do this. Gendry followed her out to the table.

And Rick, gods bless him, took the lead on this one, and she was content not to, this time.

"Uh, Arya, Gendry, we, uh, have some news! Uh, ugh, uh, can I introduce you to my _girlfriends,_ Shireen and Lyanna? I mean, ah, my _girlfriend_ Lyanna and my _girlfriend_ Shireen?" Gods, the boy was _so_ goofy; _how_ was he so hot?

Clearly, she would have to say something after all, because Arya and Gendry just looked bemused and like Rickon was probably just being Rickon again.

Lyanna put on her best hawk face. "Yeah. I mean. He's not, uh, kidding this time. He is my boyfriend. And she is my girlfriend." The introductions were really unnecessary, with so few people in the room, Rick.

Shireen just nodded, but when Arya and Gendry still looked bemused, though more like they were giving it consideration, she finally cleared her throat and confirmed it. "Um. Yes. I would like to add that Rickon is, in fact, my boyfriend and Lyanna is my girlfriend." Poor Shireen was red over three-quarters of her face.

Finally, Arya's mouth dropped open. Gendry went from bemused to amused.

" _What?_ Does Bran know? Does _Mom_ know? Rickon! _What?_ _What!?_ I thought you two were _way_ too sensible to get involved with my brother. With _that_ brother, at least. _Really?_ "

They all just sort of nodded awkwardly and moved a little closer together. Relief flooded Lyanna. _Whatever else I must endure tonight,_ she thought, _I can stop hiding how much I want to touch them._ And gods, she did. So she grabbed Shireen by the hand and leaned her body against Rick's. And pulled Shireen into the lean, and then, gods, that just felt nice.

Arya just stared. Rick picked up the questions: well, some of them.

"Yeah, no one knows yet. It's like . . . really new. Like two days ago new, Arry. So, yeah, I know you are going to tell everyone, but could you, like, space it out a little? Y'know, so we can survive our first week at least? As a . . . uh, triple?"

"Yeah, whatever, I'm texting the Stark sibling group chat right this fucking second. Shit!" Arya's eyes shone with avarice for drama not her own. "Bran and Sansa check it religiously, so."

"Okay, okay, fine. I know you're going to tell our siblings, and I don't have any, like, good useable blackmail to stop you, but, like, it might be too much for Mom and Dad right away, don't you think? Like, maybe see whether it lasts before hitting them with it?"

Arya looked thoughtful, then disappointed. "Yeah. Yeah, okay, I hate texting them news anyway, and you're right; they might expect _me_ to somehow _reform_ you, so yeah."

She was typing as she spoke, though, furiously, and within a minute her phone was pinging back at her and Arya read Bran's response aloud:

"He says, quote: 'What the actual fuck Rickon she's MY friend and you can't even just date her, you have to add in someone else and I . . . just, this makes perfect sense actually nevermind, Jojen says hi.'" Arya looked stumped. "Huh. Would have thought he'd freak out more, wait, nevermind; he's Bran. Okay, incoming from Sansa!"

And, reading that response, Arya looked much more satisfied.

"Uh, she says 'AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH' with like eleven As and seven Hs and then just, like, a _lot_ of exclamation points! And then 'RIIIIIIIICKOOOOOON' with like a lot of vowels and 'WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?" with, you guessed it, a bunch of As. Hmm, reading texts to you is not very fun. I think I will continue freaking out over a beer and some food?" with a glance to Gendry for his nod, which indicated that food was, indeed, ready to eat.

And then, they sat at the sturdy table and ate, and though Arya tried to needle, there wasn't really that much to needle about, given that she seemed to want to try to confine her needling to Rickon but couldn't really shit-talk their _relationship_ without also needling the two women in it. Gendry raised his eyebrows a bunch and seemed thoughtful, but he wasn't really the interrogation type. So, all in all, they felt pretty in the clear. After eating, Arya tilted her head to the side.

"Whatcha mean _useable_ blackmail, Rick?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," he grinned back.

— — —

Later in the evening, Arya passed around her phone so they could all read her incoming texts in the chat:

Stark Sib Group Chat (members: 7)

> Robb: Is he there right now? How do you know he's not making this shit up?
> 
> Arya: Uh, yeah, Robb, ALL THREE of them are here right now, because that is who comes EVERY week and they have all confirmed this. Rick is not passing off his fantasies as girlfriends, they are real people whom I know
> 
> Arya: And they are both awesome ladies, who may share a blind spot in thinking our baby brother is cool but are otherwise really fine examples of human beings (I know, gods) and I think Rick must have pulled off some voodoo shit or something
> 
> Robb: Well. Well. Wow. Uh, so, is he, like, do they
> 
> Robb: Sorry, trying again. Do they just both like Rick? Or do they like each other? These are Theon's juvenile words. But I couldn't think of any words, so they'll have to do
> 
> Arya: Yes, confirmed that Lyanna and Shireen do definitely "like" each other. Like, like-like, Theon
> 
> Arya: Robb, tell him he's not allowed to fantasize about my brother's girlfriends. Shit I can't believe I just typed that sentence. Yeah they're both bi I think. Although I did not know that about Shireen until now

Lyanna was able to read most of it with a straight face, especially given that her guts were pleasantly stuffed with a home-cooked meal _(thank the fucking gods for Gendry),_ but Shireen was still pretty pink. She laughed and nodded when she got to the last text though.

"Yeah, I guess that's why people do, like coming-out announcements and shit, huh?" She mumbled at Arya. "I um," she cleared her throat and glanced at Lya and Rick, "I told my dad the other night, at least. I mean, not about _us,_ but about _me._ "

Just as she'd said she would, and Lyanna hadn't doubted it, but still she softened her smile for Shir. "Hey, good on you, girlfriend."

Rick would have looked cautious, if such a thing weren't an oxymoron. "What did he say?"

"Oh, basically just 'Oh' and 'Thank you for telling me,'" Shireen's eyes were wide, but not in worry or fear. "It was good, though. We hugged."

"Stannis Baratheon _hugs_?" Gendry did, occasionally, speak.

"Uh, yeah, awkwardly," Shireen laughed, still fascinated with the idea of getting to know her cousin, Lya could tell. Her smile. Gods, that woman, that woman who _didn't even_ think she was fucking _beautiful_ and Lya would have to make sure she and Rick worked to get Shireen to realize _that,_ fuck.

"Oh, and Renly was predictably happy. Something about _not being the_ _only queer Baratheon,_ I think . . ." her eyes sparkled; they _sparkled_ when she was happy or laughing, and Lya was _done, gods._ "Loras did try to pry but I think I fended him off well enough for now."

Gendry snorted, then looked embarrassed. At a questioning glance from Shireen, he explained:

"Sorry, I know he doesn't think of her as a Baratheon, I mean, _I_ don't think of us as Baratheons either, but, like, uh, has he met Bella? I mean, I'm pretty sure she's pansexual and, like, real queer and real proud and real, um, sex-positive?" he trailed off, even more embarrassed, it seemed. Lya tried to remember which one Bella was. The sister up in the Riverlands somewhere, she thought. The second oldest.

"I don't know, Gen. I kinda don't think he has," Shireen said sadly. "I don't think he's as interested in you and your siblings as I am or . . . as I wish they all would be." She sighed. "Is she . . . nice?"

"Oh, yeah." Gendry looked more comfortable, now that he could focus on putting Shireen at ease. "She's great! A little wild but totally genuine and caring and she seemed more . . . comfortable with having a brother out of nowhere than I was about the whole thing. Arya and I are planning to go see her again in spring."

— — —

Arya, frowning, passed the phone around again, later, after a round of cyvasse at which Shireen roundly trounced Gendry, apologetically. Gendry had put on a record, which seemed to be mostly banjos.

Stark Sib Group Chat (members: 7)

> Jon: Okay, thanks for letting us know
> 
> Arya: Really, Jon? That's all you've got?
> 
> Jon: Um, it's ... interesting? Very Rickon? I can't think of much of a response here. I mean, it's weird but I feel like he's done weirder things? And you said they are both cool people and they are into it, so, more power to them?
> 
> Jon: Maybe make sure they know not to play soccer with him, though. Or hockey. Um, sports at all, really

"Finally," Lya sighed, "Someone with useful advice."

Stark Sib Group Chat (members: 7)

> Theon: So, who's the biggest spoon? Who sleeps in the middle? Which girl thinks she's hotter? Which one's hotter for real tho Arya?

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

— — —

Lyanna was losing her cool. It was late and the three of them had agreed to meet in the park tomorrow afternoon, for their first "date." _Date._ She needed to stop thinking of it in quotes. They were dating. It was a date. They planned to enjoy the autumn weather in the park and peruse the food trucks around it. As a date it was . . . a bit vague and undefined, but she knew the aim was partly to make the situation comfortable and soothe everyone's jitters. Besides, hanging out with those weirdos would be stellar no matter what they did.

That was sort of the problem, actually. Too stellar. Like, every time she looked at Rick she remembered kissing him and wanting to fist his hair and hold him there longer and _feel_ his _hands_ on her fucking _skin_ and every time she looked at Shireen she wanted to stroke her glossy black hair and her rough, beautiful, scaly cheek and kiss her neck and make her face turn red with blushes and _gods_ she needed to cool off, or . . . hmmm.

She snuck to the bathroom while Arya and Rick both cheated at cyvasse and Shireen quizzed Gendry about the running of his shop and which half-siblings he'd heard from. She shut the door behind her and figured, if she was quiet, no one would ask her anything, at least. Even if they _suspected_. Looking in the mirror, she saw a _fucking_ hot lady who had some _awesome_ prospects for good sex in her future but who, at the moment, needed to not jump the bones of the two gorgeous people with whom she was _taking it slow_.

So, she shoved her hand down inside her comfy pants while she stared at her reflection. _So fierce._ Yeah, she knew it was a little weird to admire a trait in someone else mainly _because_ it was a trait you admired in yourself. But, well, that's what Lyanna was: weird. And confident. And, _hot._

And fuck, she was wet, but: fingers were just not going to cut it right now. She borrowed a hand towel and covered the corner of the sink with it so it wasn't too sharp, and then stood up enough to slot her legs over the corner so her still-pants-covered cunt and clit just rubbed right into the towel-covered faux marble. The _pressure,_ so good. She rocked back and forth until the pressure built, and her clit was throbbing with the rhythm. She _loved_ this feeling, the fucking impending crack of an orgasm she'd been putting off a few days and wanting so badly at the same time. And then, _fuck_ , it washed over her and her body arched and twitched and she stifled a groan and a whimper. _Quiet._ She rocked until it dissipated.

And then she put her feet back to the ground and stashed the towel back in its pile. Very efficient. She checked her reflection; she could see the damn sex flush but otherwise she looked normal and in her relaxed state, she didn't really mind the idea of Rick or Shir noticing that her blush went down her chest, so she returned to the party.

She could tell right away that Rick noticed, because his eyes caught on her and stopped, double-taking, and then _his_ cheeks got pink. It made her think that some of the times around him when she'd snuck off to rub one out in a bathroom (or her bedroom when they were at her place), that maybe she'd not been as subtle as she thought she had, and that now he just didn't mind her knowing that he'd noticed.

Then Shireen saw him looking, and her keen gaze picked up on it too once she guessed what had Rick blushing. Shit, they _would_ give each other away like that, wouldn't they? Then _Shireen_ blushed. Gods, now all three of them were pink: _Look away, Lya, grab a beer or something!_ She managed to cool off in the kitchen while fetching two more beers for her _fuck,_ her _girlfriend_ and her _boyfriend. Yeah._

When she returned and handed them beers, they were, well. _Less_ pink, at least. Fortunately Arya and Gendry were in the middle of a mock-argument-turned-tickle-battle, so they escaped notice from them, at least.

— — —

When she got home that night, her phone mysteriously rang twenty seconds after she walked through the door. She sighed. Bran was so predictable.

"Yeah, Bran?" She locked the door and kicked off her shoes.

"Hey Lya!" She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Sooooo . . ."

She sighed again while she petted a grumpy-looking Bear. "Yeah, Bran. Look, I would have told you first, but this was . . . like, look: I talked to Rick Sunday. Right?"

Bran hummed, so she went on. "And basically I told him, uh, that I was interested in him _and someone else,_ so . . ." She started getting ready for bed.

"Wait, you didn't tell him it was Shireen? So he thought you were just . . ." Bran could be counted on to want the full story.

"Yeah. I said I was interested in two people, one of which was _him,_ he said he could relate, and we both, uh, agreed to talk to the, uh, _other person_. And then evidently he was talking to Shireen—I didn't know it was her—and she came out to him and told him she was interested in him but also . . . _me_. And that's when it got, uh, crazy."

"Yeah, I could see that being a little crazy . . . like, did they just call you, or what?" She could hear Jojen yell something in the background, but Bran was focused.

"Yeah, well, I texted Shir to ask her if we could talk while I was out drunk with Lyra and Jory. And I guess they were looking at each other's phones? Rick just asked me point blank whether it was _her,_ and I . . . thought he had developed some witchy powers or . . ." Bran laughed, that startled sound she loved being able to pull out of him.

"So you confirmed?" Pajamas on, she threw herself across her giant bed.

"Yeah, and then he _showed_ her! I'm not even mad because she was freaking out about what I was waiting to talk to her about and I was _drunk_ and it was dumb of me to text her when I couldn't actually talk but I was . . . gods, Bran, I wasn't even sure if she was into girls! What was I thinking, telling Rick?"

"Uh, Lya, you . . . aren't, uh, the most patient. But, um, I doubt Rick would have . . . like, he's great, I actually think he's grown a lot, but like _you're_ the one who tends to know what you want and just . . . go for it, right? And that's probably a good thing here, well, I mean—if you overlook that you're dating my baby brother and all . . ." She _was_ overlooking that, really, and she was pretty sure he was too. Bran was just not the type to get weird about something like that.

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm fairly certain Shireen wasn't going to do anything without some stimulus, either, I mean, I left her so many openings to at least tell me she wasn't straight, and I had a feeling, but she's . . . very cautious. Which is why I nearly pissed myself when she texted back all 'I like girls and I like _you_ specifically,' _gods,_ Bran!" She was grinning maniacally into the phone. "So we had a . . . conference. Which involved kissing. On Wednesday. And then we realized we had two days 'til _Arya._ "

"Oh, _yeah,_ shit. So she got it out of you, or what?" Bran sounded sympathetic: Lyanna had always suspected that at least some of the motivation behind the mysterious, all-knowing persona that he cultivated was just Arya and her ability to both prise truths from people and detect their lies.

"Nah, we just decided to tell. I mean, we _would_ have waited longer, but this was more fun than being cross-examined. She actually looked kind of disappointed!" At that, Bran actually _cackled_. "I mean, this thing is kinda delicate by nature, you know? So I think we all wanted to . . . reassure each other, feelings-wise? Like, call it a thing?"

"Yeah, I could see that . . ." He sounded impressed, actually. Bear had installed himself in the middle of the bed and was demanding attention.

"Um, and, I mean at least for me, I, uh, _know_ that I'm in this pretty deep in that respect, y'know? Because Rick is like, my _best_ friend who's not, uh, _you,_ and I, uh . . . yeah. He's something. It's like . . . a level of comfort that I'm completely unused to, romance-wise. I mean, even with Dryn it was like . . . I had to _be_ someone, you know, kinda? I'm not explaining this well, and you know I don't _do_ fake so it wasn't _that_ but . . . it took . . . effort? To _be_ with Dryn, and with Squirrel, with Del, with lovely Edda, there was . . . like I had to _perform_ being with them, almost? I had to perform _me_ , somehow? Maybe it will be different now that this thing has become . . . romantic or whatever, but being his friend has always felt _natural_. And I think it's like that with Shir, too; I mean, I'm more nervous around her, like I want to get it right, but it's not . . . what makes Shireen the happiest is, like, authenticity and honesty and like true feels and shit, and I never have to _impress_ either of them, I guess. I don't have to be, like, 'that badass, Lyanna Mormont.' I can just _actually_ be her."

Bran laughed. "I _love_ that you _know_ you're a badass, Lya, and you really are. I think I get what you're saying, though. And I'm really glad to hear it."

Lyanna breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn't realized how much she had needed to talk this through—while sober and _not_ with her sisters, that was.

"Yeah, so, yeah, we basically _immediately_ decided we were like, _dating_ , and just outed ourselves to Arya and Gen and got it over with. And we're still kind of feeling that out, you know? But I feel really good about it, and I'm pretty sure they do too. We've got, like, a _date_ tomorrow? I mean, not a fancy one, but, like, we decided we have to create opportunities for the three of us to hang out because that's not . . . I mean . . . that's like the newest part. I mean, we hadn't all been in the same room alone before Wednesday, for fuck's sake!" She started laughing. Bran joined her, and soon tears were running down her cheeks.

"Bran, I know you're gonna get a big head about it, but I'm, uh, really glad you called." She _was._ She got up, fidgety, annoying Bear, and tried to think whether she could pull off brushing her teeth while on the phone.

"Yeah, Lya, anytime," he replied quietly.

"You really are feeling okay about me dating your little brother? It's not like too weird or whatever?" she had to ask, even if she was pretty sure she knew.

"I mean . . . would you stop if I said it was?" She could hear him smirking again.

"Oh, fuck no! But I'd _talk_ to you about it!" She was laughing again.

"Yeah, no, Lya, it's . . . good. Like I said, it makes sense. You make sense together. And I have less intel on Shireen, but I trust you to know your own heart, and head, and it sounds good." His voice was even, but she could read him better than most, and she knew he was sincere.

"Oh, thank gods, okay, now we can _stop_ fucking talking about _me._ What have you been doing? How's Jojen? Is Summer still 'mauling him with love' or whatever you were calling it last time?" She picked up her toothbrush.

The rest of the conversation was just like picking up a thread, and she wondered why she hadn't called him in two weeks, and vowed to not let it go that long again.

— — —


	4. RICKON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The date, with some unexpected weather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a longer chapter for you :)

— — —

Rickon was . . . pretty excited about his date. With his _girlfriends._ He was aching to spend more time with them and watch them blush and kiss them and grin at them dashingly and wonder what Lya had done to herself in the bathroom at Arya's that she'd come out _that_ flushed after _that little_ time. Which was why it was annoying that he couldn't seem to get more than a few minutes all morning without annoying texts from his siblings.

Stark Sib Group Chat (members: 7)

> Arya: Rick, seriously, if you think with your cock on this one like you did with Gilliane I'm gonna geld you. These two girls are really important to me and they deserve R E S P E C T
> 
> Arya: Find out what it means to me
> 
> Rickon: Yes, Arya. I am taking this shit very seriously. I will do everything I can not to fuck it up
> 
> Arya: And for the gods' sake use protection, Rick
> 
> Rickon: Yes, Arya, gods, can we not talk about sex tho pls
> 
> Rickon: And Gilliane was FOUR YEARS AGO Arya, give it a rest
> 
> Arya: Yeah I think the fact that you have shit dating history that goes back more than FOUR YEARS when you're only 19 is part of the issue
> 
> Rickon: I disagree. I know I started early and thought I knew everything because I had stories and mistakes from ALL of you to draw on
> 
> Rickon: But, I learned, that I had to make my own mistakes, I guess? And learn from them?
> 
> Rickon: And I really think I have, so hopefully I can put every single thing I know about how to be a good boyfriend into effect here because I know this is crazy but it's REALLY GOOD and I really want it to work
> 
> Rickon: Gah, you guys, I've got it so bad
> 
> Sansa: Awwwwwwww
> 
> Robb: But seriously, Rick: how did you do it?
> 
> Rickon: I dunno, man. Dumb luck? And, uh, talking to them? I was just in love with two girls and they happened to both like me and also each other, okay, I'm going with dumb luck here
> 
> Bran: I have it on good authority that Rick did not, in fact, do it, and probably wouldn't have if Lya hadn't told him point-blank
> 
> Rickon: Yes, that is true. No lies
> 
> Theon: WHY will no one answer my questions?
> 
> Arya: Because, Theon, because: THEY ARE DUMB QUESTIONS
> 
> Sansa: Dumb and RUDE questions, Theon
> 
> Arya: Well, I figured rude was a given, we are talking about Theon here
> 
> Bran: Actually, Rick, Jojen called it moons ago on you and Lyanna. The Shireen element was NOT predicted though
> 
> Rickon: That's because you're making predictions about my LOVE LIFE from halfway across the country and you are clearly lacking information, bro
> 
> Bran: Well, I WAS lacking in info
> 
> Bran: Have more now, tho
> 
> Rickon: Shireen has been my bestie pretty much from the moment I got here, so
> 
> Rickon: But yeah, Lyanna and I hit it off pretty fast too. She's more intimidating though
> 
> Bran: Yeah no shit
> 
> Bran: I don't really know Shireen that well but Lya's more intimidating than most people
> 
> Arya: HEY
> 
> Bran: Besides you, Arya
> 
> Rickon: Besides you Arya
> 
> Arya: :)
> 
> Sansa: Ricky, I'm just worried you've bitten off more than you can chew
> 
> Theon: ... there's a joke here, I know it
> 
> Sansa: Shut up Theon!
> 
> Arya: Shut up Theon
> 
> Rickon: We're taking it slow. This is still VERY new y'all. Emphasis on communication
> 
> Sansa: Well, I'm at least impressed that you went for friendship first and that you are communicating. Seems like that would get you pretty far if it were just one girl, anyway
> 
> Rickon: Yeah, hopefully if I just double the output? :) Taking it one step at a time
> 
> Rickon: Speaking of which, I have a date and I'm done talking to you losers (for now)

As he was getting ready (which basically just involved bathing and packing a bag with picnic supplies minus the food), he got a little nervous.

The reality of _being_ with Shireen and Lyanna was overwhelming. Sure. That was true. But, on the other hand, they were just Shir and Lya. He'd been around at least one of them most days he wasn't at work for moons now. He was used to flirting with them (well flirting for _sure_ with Lya, now that he knew for sure that it _was_ flirting, and like, being _comfortable_ with Shireen, which seemed pretty much like low-key flirting). So, he'd just, he'd just do that. Those things. That he'd already been doing.

And maybe kiss them. _Ah, gods, I want to kiss them again so bad. I want to touch Shir's scars again and her hair and_ hold _her so bad and Lya . . . I . . . want to let her_ do _things to me._

He wondered what Lya would be like, coming. He could picture her, losing control like that—had been picturing that in the quiet moments after he woke up in the mornings, occasionally—but he'd bet he wasn't doing her justice. And Shireen: his fantasies of her had been . . . vague; he had no idea really what she was like sexually, but _gods,_ her legs, her long lean body, her stiff posture relaxing, her head thrown back, gods . . .What would they look like _together?_ Gods, watching them kiss Wednesday had almost made his cock hard by itself. Fuck. _I should stop._ _Shit, I'm screwed. Slow. Take it slow. Breathe._

His phone chirped, and he growled, but a grin made its way across his face when he saw who it was.

Three's company (members: 3)

> Lyanna: Hello lovelies
> 
> Lyanna: Just thought you should know it might rain later on (but like, evening so we should probably be good for a while) so my place for backup plan?
> 
> Shireen: Sounds good, Lya, you're closest if we have to run for it but I will also bring umbrellas
> 
> Rickon: Like, multiple umbrellas, Shir?
> 
> Shireen: Dad has buttloads of them. Always prepared
> 
> Rickon: I got picnic blanket and utensils and cups and shit
> 
> Lyanna: I guess my contribution is ... WINE
> 
> Shireen: Awesome Lya, get the arbor gold?
> 
> Lyanna: On it
> 
> Shireen: Is it too cheesy to say I can't wait to see you both? I've got fucking butterflies and I just saw you last night
> 
> Lyanna: Same. SAME
> 
> Rickon: Can I just grin like a fool over here? Okay, okay, SAME
> 
> Rickon: Who titled the group chat, anyway?
> 
> Shireen: Lya because she is a CHEESEBALL
> 
> Lyanna: Didn't see either of you coming up with suggestions :)

He shouldered the bag, locked up his empty place ( _gods,_ he missed Shaggydog), and headed for the park.

— — —

The weather was perfect: the breeze was cool and the sun warm and the trees were still green enough to feel almost like summer with a little fire peppered in. They stopped at a Dornish food track and got several boxes of spicy goodness, and then they found a flat place in the shade and spread out Ned Stark's old blanket with the WU Direwolves' logo on it and set up. Lyanna poured them each some wine in Rick's old mismatched thrift store mugs and Shireen opened the boxes and handed out silverware.

After they ate they sat on the blanket and talked, and Shireen leaned her back against Rick's side and Lya put her head in Shir's lap and her knees over Rick's legs and it was so _comfortable_ and _sexy_ in this way that felt _comfortable_ , and on the one hand Rickon felt like he was just on the edge of being so _hard_ for both these girls he wasn't gonna be able to contain all his nervous sexual energy, but on the other? He just breathed, and sat, sketching—their faces, dogs running, the crazy Stormlands clouds—comfortable, talking to them, and kept his cock and its feelings in the _background_ somehow and it was _fine._ It was _good,_ it was really really good.

He could _feel_ the fire down his right side at every place Shireen's body touched his (shoulder, ribcage, hip). He could _feel_ the feathery touches of Lya's fingers on his leg and the warmth of her calves against his, and he could _feel_ the heat coiling up his spine and pooling in his balls and licking up the length of his half-hard cock. But his concentration was also on the coolness of the breeze, the warmth of the sun, the colors and shapes of the scene, the ridiculousness of the banter, the sweetness of the tentative smiles and small touches these girls were sharing with him.

 _Arya would be proud of me_ , he thought. _Not that it's any of her damn business._

Lyanna was waxing poetic about the cleanness of a particular manuscript and the joy of copyediting a thing like that when the clouds suddenly started moving fast and the breeze turned into a bluster. The sky grew darker and yellower.

"Huh, yeah, Lya, looks like maybe your place?" Rickon was loath to separate his body from the warmth pressed up against it but he wasn't keen on a drenching, either. And the Stormlands were called that for a reason, he'd learned. He stashed his sketchbook quickly.

Lya and Rick packed up the picnic quickly while Shireen scarfed the last dregs of Dornish rice and sauce from the only non-empty carton. She pulled three umbrellas out of her bag and quickly got to her feet. They each grabbed empty cartons and tossed them in the trash on their way back through the park. As the first drops started to splash down, Shireen handed a grey umbrella to Rick and a green one to Lya and popped open a black one over her own head, and they made a little parade of circles around the park entrance and up the block toward Lyanna's apartment.

The stupid things were large enough to keep him completely out of touching range of either woman, but at least most of him stayed dry. For a moment, anyway.

Then the skies opened up and the Stormlands lived up to their name. The torrent that came down hammered on their umbrellas, the wind pushed them around, and the force of the rain as it hit the ground was such that it splashed up again and drenched them from the ground up. Rick thought his upper left side was pretty dry, but the rest of him was soaked. At least the bag was watertight.

The women hadn't fared much better, and by the time they all stumbled up the stairs and into Lya's door they were a mess, dripping all over the wood floor of her living room, and laughing their asses off at Shireen's careful umbrella-bringing and what good it had done them. Lya's enormous cat looked at them with disdain, as if to heartily _disapprove_ of so much water, and hopped up to lick himself on the high perch on his big tree, away from the spreading puddles on the floor. Rick missed the snowstorms of his childhood, but there was something about the exhilaration of being drenched in a warmish but torrential rain that was magical, too.

When Shireen sat on the floor and started stripping off her shoes, socks, and flannel shirt, and he saw the thin little camisole she had under it sticking to her skin and the outline of her bra under it, and her _pants_ were wet too, gods, he realized the magic went further than he'd thought.

Lya, dripping, looked at Rick and Shireen with a critical eye.

"Um, okay, so _my_ pants aren't going to fit _either_ of you . . . Shir, maybe I can lend you a, um, dress, or a robe or something?" _Lyanna_ was blushing. At the thought of Shireen in her dress? Yeah, on second thought, yeah, that made sense: Rickon almost blushed, too, just thinking of Shireen's long legs sticking out of any dress in the lengths Lya usually favored. _Gods._

"And, uh, I'm afraid its gonna be Dacey's old shorts for you, Rick." She smirked, then, the blush still on her cheeks, but a twinkle in her eye. _Shit, she's so ferociously pretty_.

Rick had met Dacey, Lyanna's oldest sister, once: she was close to his height, six feet at least, almost twenty years older than Lya, and intimidating in a way that had impressed him; she was tall and quick and gruff and imposing but also graceful and beautiful. The height difference between the two sisters would have been more surprising if he didn't already know that their mother had used different sperm donors for each of her five daughters, so their genetics were bound to have some differences. He guessed that Lya remembered he'd been intimidated by Dacey and that that was why she was smirking at him, but he'd take Dacey's clothes with grace if they were dry and they'd _fit_ him.

"Uh, sure, Lya, that, that'll work," he stammered out. Put his grin back on.

Great. Lya had stripped down to her lace panties and bra while Rick's mind had been wandering, and his grin froze and his mind locked up a little, looking at her muscular shoulders and the tops of her little round breasts and, _Gods, I need to shut my eyes,_ the shape of the muscles in her legs and how they met the sliver of her firm ass that he could see from this angle. Belatedly, he realized that he had not, in fact, shut his eyes at all.

He glanced over at Shireen and she was quite pink and her mouth was open, staring at Lyanna's ass, which he was sure she could see much more of than he could, from where she was, and at the movement of his head she snapped her mouth shut and turned redder. Lyanna smirked more and stomped into her bedroom, presumably to retrieve them some dry clothes. Rickon grinned at Shireen and finally remembered to strip off his own wet socks and shirt.

So, he knew he was skinny and, y'know, had _some_ muscles from working in a physical profession (and just _constantly_ working off nervous energy), but, like, the lean kind of muscles and he didn't have, like, a six-pack, or huge biceps like Gendry or anything, and it honestly took him by surprise when Shir's gaze snapped to him and her mouth fell back open. But, hells, it _did_ feel _good._

They were both distracted by the sound of Lya's wet undergarments hitting the floor, _right over there_ behind the only-partially-closed door to her bedroom, and he swallowed thickly, but by the time she came stomping out again, she had on some shorts and a soft-looking loose comfortable t-shirt that was faded and green with a wide neck and a bear on it. He seriously doubted she was wearing a bra, though, and he _might_ have looked a little longer than he meant to at the shape of her nipple that was still pretty defined under the soft fabric.

She handed Shireen a black and grey sundress he'd seen Lya in before and a flash of yellow . . . maybe some panties or something? _Gods._ And his mind, once again, helpfully supplied him with a vivid image of just how much of Shir's legs would be visible below the black border at the bottom of the dress. Then she fortunately interrupted this dangerous train of thought by shoving a bundle into his arms and offering the bathroom and her bedroom, respectively, to each of the people still dripping on her floors.

Rick hurried into the bathroom and stripped off his wet pants and boxers and unfolded the bundle Lya had handed him. There was a big t-shirt in grey and green that he thought he might have seen Lya in some morning when he'd come over before she'd finished breakfast and gotten dressed for the day. It smelled like cloth and air and . . . _something_ that was _definitely_ Lyanna and he put it on while trying not to think about her _sleeping_ in it. And there were . . . shorts. Black ones that were clearly Dacey's, and would be a little short on him, but not embarrassingly so, but . . . ah, shit, _how_ was he supposed to go fucking _commando_ in the presence of two beautiful women who he _definitely_ wanted and one of whom was possessed of gorgeously long legs he was already trying not to picture _again_ and the other of whose _nipple_ he'd just finished staring at? _How?_

Well. _Nothing for it_ , he thought, and put on the shorts. When he returned to the living room, Lya's nipple was blessedly _(sadly)_ less visible, and she took the wet clothes from him and threw them in the open dryer in the hallway. Then Shireen emerged from Lya's bedroom and his heart stopped for a second. Her legs were _gods,_ there was even more of them than he'd thought, and _gods._

He tried to think whether he'd ever seen her in a skirt that short and came up empty. She'd worn a sundress, he thought, to Uncle Robert's barbecue last summer for Father's Feast, but it had been yellow and longer, though pleasant to look at . . . _wait,_ hells, had he wanted her even then? He probably had. He clearly remembered how the dress had looked on her thighs, for the gods' sake.

Rickon looked at the ceiling, took several deep breaths, and thought of Arya's deepest scowl. He managed to keep his cock from getting any harder than it already had, at least. _Fuck._

He heard the sound of the dryer closing and starting, looked around and saw Lyanna had already covered the parts of the floor they'd dripped all over and under the umbrellas with towels, noticed Bear's baleful gaze flash a hint of approval towards his person for the efficient handling of all that _water,_ listened to the sound of the rain, still coming down hard, outside the window and tapping hard on some metal surface that was connected somehow to the inside of Lya's apartment. The oven vent, maybe? He stared at the walls; well, the bookcases all over the walls, and tried for a moment to remember what Lya's sorting system was and which section was speculative fiction and which was historical fiction (both were quite large). The erection that had _definitely_ made it past half-mast subsided. _How_ was he going to make it, here?

When he finally looked back at them, Shir and Lya were sharing an amused smirk that _had_ to be at his expense and he _made_ his body move toward the old low green couch, which he knew from experience was long enough to sleep even him comfortably, and sat down.

They followed him, because _of course_ they did, and when Lya sat at his left and leaned into him, pulling her feet up on the other side of her and pouring her head and _soft soft_ hair all over his shoulder and her _neck_ was right there and her shirt hung so low around it that he could see the top of one of her breasts and she was _definitely_ not wearing a bra and then he felt the weight of Shireen hit the couch on his right and she pulled up _her_ legs to the other side and that _damn_ sundress rode nearly halfway up her ass on one side and she turned and _grinned_ at him he thought, _fuck it,_ and spread out his arms, grabbed them both, and pulled them into the most comfortable, _sexiest_ bear hug he'd even participated in.

"You, you're . . . you're both _incredibly_ sexy, _gods,_ do you know?" He couldn't help himself. _Seven hells._

Lya laughed, low and feral and spine-tingling, and Shireen barked her short laugh and beamed, and he felt as though his grin would split his face open but he just _didn't fucking care,_ this was so good.

He registered that Lya had supplied more cups and that Shir had produced their half-drunk bottle of wine and was pouring more, and Lya asked whether they wanted to watch one of those Aemon Targaryen nature documentaries and they settled on the one about bugs and other small crawly things. Which, in retrospect, was not as safe of a choice as it should have been, because he found himself staring at the glistening slimy _sparkly_ intricate beautiful dance of two snails _fucking_ , but at least Shir's snort and Lya's low laugh and "Gods, I swear, I didn't mean to do this to you guys" made it slightly less insane.

When the show was over, and the room was quiet again, the calming and even tones of Aemon Targaryen's narration gone, and the rain still hammering down outside, Lya slipped off the couch (to the disgust of Bear, who had _just_ gotten comfortable on the other side of her, and who returned to his tree and washed himself, aggressively, in protest). Then she sat up on her knees, _right, right_ in front of Rick, and put her hand on Shireen's knee, and grinned wickedly. And his breath hitched as he watched Shireen lean her long frame forward, slowly, her hand to Lya's shoulder, her eyes half-lidded, and kiss Lya's upturned lips, slowly, quietly, softly.

The passion with which Lya responded didn't shock him, and Shir seemed to welcome it, though she was maybe shaking a little, but leaning her body closer to Lya's, trailing her fingers through Lya's hair, and Rick was a little overwhelmed at the sight of her neck and the side of her face with those scars and her _shoulder_ and the thin grey strap of Lya's dress _right there_ and he lifted his right hand to her back and trailed it lightly down to her waist.

She didn't turn toward him but he could feel the light pressure of her, leaning just a little into his hand, toward him, and her left hand came around his back and pulled him in. So he gave in and let himself be pulled toward her and landed soft kisses on her shoulder, inward toward her neck, downward onto her collarbone, and she gasped softly into Lya's lips and it was _heaven_ to hear.

Then, because once the thought took him he couldn't help but follow it, his left hand reaching out into Lyanna's soft hair and cupping her face next to where Shireen was still kissing her mouth with gentle hunger, he softly kissed Shireen back up her neck and onto the side of her face, onto those hard lovely scars, hoping that it would be welcome and wouldn't make her cry again.

The texture was like nothing else, hard and soft in stripes and waves, and he'd always, _always_ thought they were beautiful and he had no idea of how to convince her of it but he _did._ She gasped again and he might have seen a tear in her eye but she didn't pull away from him and her hand trailed up his neck and into his hair and _pulled_ , so softly, and scratched at his scalp and _ah, gods._

He carefully kept his right hand at Shireen's waist on the upper curve of her hip and not in the dangerous territory below where he _knew_ her bare skin was under the hiked-up too-short dress, and his left trailed down Lya's neck to her shoulder and collarbone and, okay, under her shirt a little but in the _back_ , not the front where it was too _dangerous_ because _breasts. Mother, Maiden, Crone._ Her skin was so _soft._

He felt her shiver a little and registered her left hand drawing gentle circles on Shireen's knee and then Lya's other hand reached up and joined Shir's in his hair, on his scalp, and the feeling, gods, of their two different sets of fingers stroking his scalp and tangling in his hair so _gently_ , and then, so slowly, Lya's and Shir's lips separated, and Lyanna's head turned just slightly, and then her lips were on his and pulling at his lower lip and _biting_ him and gods, yes, this was all seven _fucking_ heavens and his cock was hard but at least he was bent at the waist so it wasn't actively _poking_ either of these incredible women at the moment.

Lya pulled the back of his head toward her and he surrendered to her mouth and her hard kiss and then he felt Shireen's lips, almost tentatively, on his neck and he _groaned._ He felt Lyanna's sharp grin against his mouth but he seemed to have encouraged Shireen in just the right way because then he felt her teeth, gently, scraping, biting his neck right under his chin at the collarbone and he, _gods._

Lya's hand trailed out of his hair and down his back and onto his hip above Dacey's shorts and suddenly he felt the touch of her fingers on his fucking _skin_ as they pushed up under the shirt she'd lent him and he gasped into her mouth and she hummed, a little soft noise, softer than he'd probably heard from Lya before, and he realized Shireen's mouth had left his neck and was licking Lya's skin under her ear on the other side and oh, _gods_ , watching that was just as good as both their hands on him, _gods,_ but Lyanna _bit_ him a little harder than she'd probably meant to when Shir reached her earlobe and he hissed a little with pleasure and ran his hand up Shireen's side to her shoulder and down again, trailing just a little lower and she shivered but that might have been because of Lya's hand moving a little up her thigh, too, and godsdamn there was just _so much._

He kneaded the muscle at Shireen's hip and ran his hand down Lya's back and above her waist to the skin under her shirt like she'd done to him and, _gods, breathe Rickon,_ her skin was warm and soft and Shireen was kissing down Lyanna's neck and onto the skin of her chest where her shirt hung low and almost down to where he'd been able to see the top of her breast before it had got covered in Shireen's inky black hair and Lya let go of his lips and threw her head back and pulled both of them toward her and gasped. She pushed up from her awkward stance halfway kneeling in front of them and _climbed onto him_ until she was sitting across his right leg and grabbing Shireen's neck and kissing her lips again.

Rick became aware that: one, Lya's ass was barely clothed in shorts that were definitely shorter than he'd thought and the _skin_ of it was in contact with his _leg_ and, two, she'd pushed him back to sitting more upright and his ridiculously hard cock was dangerously close to that lovely ass. He could see it, the shorts clinging to each round half and doing _nothing_ to conceal the shape of it, and _Warrior, Smith_ had it always been so shapely? Yes, _gods,_ it had.

He almost missed that Shireen's hands were roaming up Lyanna's back under her shirt and Lya's were touching Shir's collarbone and her scars and then he forgot to worry about his cock and pulled Shireen's waist so she came flush up against Lya whose legs were on either side of Shireen and he could run his hands down Shir's back and kiss the back of Lya's neck and _shit, gods,_ his cock was definitely _touching Lya's ass_ through two pairs of shorts and um. She didn't get upset, so.

Then Shir's phone buzzed, from the bag on the other side of the table, and they all wanted to ignore it, but Lya's went as well, and Rick remembered that he'd turned his to silent because his siblings just _wouldn't_ stop with the chat so then his mind was distracted too, and they all reluctantly let go and laughed and blushed and breathed.

"Gods, women, you'll kill me," Rick breathed as he picked up his knees to hopefully at least sort of hide the evidence of exactly how much effect they'd both just had on him.

Lya stood up with a slightly maniacal gleam in her eye and grabbed her phone off the end table and Shireen, quite red, pulled the bag up to the couch and pulled hers from inside it. And Rick's hand met hers as he reached into the bag for his own phone but it wasn't weird anymore to just, touch her, so he did, running his fingers around and over her delicate wrist and her large hand, and then he found his phone and smiled at her and they were all grinning and goofy.

Lya looked up from her phone. "Arya says to look at your phone, Rick."

Shireen smiled. "Same."

"Shit. Fuck, for fuck's sake, _Arya._ Okay, okay, I'm looking." Bear loomed and glowered from above Lya's head.

He had to read through a bit more stupid sibling banter to see what she was on about.

Stark Sib Group Chat (members: 7)

> Sansa: Well have a good date, baby bro! Don't do anything I wouldn't do! I mean, I guess, I probably wouldn't date two people at once, so ... just ... be careful and treat those girls well
> 
> Arya: Yeah, or ELSE
> 
> Jon: Can we talk about something else now
> 
> Robb: Why, Jon, do YOU have a second girlfriend you've been hiding?
> 
> Jon: OH no, Val is PLENTY of girlfriend for me, thx
> 
> Theon: Details
> 
> Bran: Theon, pick your battles
> 
> Bran: Jon is the LEAST likely person here to give in to your rude and unwarranted demands for things like DETAILS; you know that as well as I do
> 
> Arya: Rick, I need a favor
> 
> Sansa: He's on a date, Arya, just let him have it
> 
> Arya: No, like, I need to know about this asap or call someone else, fuck
> 
> Bran: Need help hiding a body?
> 
> Robb: Trouble in paradise?
> 
> Arya: No, no, fuck y'all. Gendry finally heard from his westerlands sibs and they are coming to visit
> 
> Arya: Like, TUESDAY
> 
> Arya: And they're fucking ALLERGIC TO DOGS (So, also WOLVES)
> 
> Arya: Plus Sans, you're coming Thursday, right? We only have one extra bed
> 
> Arya: We need a place to put them up and all you non-stormlanders are USELESS I need RICKON
> 
> Sansa: confirmed, I'll be there for Smith's Day weekend! SO excited!!
> 
> Arya: RICK?????
> 
> Bran: Just text Lya. Or Shireen? Or both
> 
> Arya: Bran you are a GENIUS
> 
> Bran: Anytime

Dammit. He just _did not_ want to talk logistics with Arya right now; he wanted to kiss Lya and Shir some more, but . . . fuck, he could easily put them up, although at least one of them would have to sleep on the floor. He showed the texts to Lyanna and Shireen.

"Rick, they won't both fit on your couch." Lya came to the same conclusion.

"Yeah, I know, but . . ."

"I just mean, you're welcome to sleep on mine if you want to. Or not, if you don't want them taking over your place completely. How long are they staying?"

"Dunno, gotta ask Arya. Thanks Lya. I might do that. Wish Shireen could be here too, if we're doing sleepovers, though," he waggled his eyebrows.

"I'm . . . not opposed to that." Lya grinned.

Shireen grinned back. "Find out how long. I could be persuaded into a sleepover but I'm not gonna stay here all week! We do have to, y'know, work and stuff." She groaned.

Rickon started typing.

Stark Sib Group Chat (members: 7)

> Rickon: Arya! Way to interrupt
> 
> Rickon: They can stay at mine. How many days?
> 
> Arya: RICK thank gods. I think they'll be here Tues thru Thurs? They might stay longer though, I think they have the weekend off for Smith's Day
> 
> Sansa: Rickon ftw!
> 
> Rickon: Wait they're not like DEATHLY allergic, right? I mean I don't know but there's probably still Shaggy hair all up in everything I own
> 
> Arya: Naw. They just get miserable and they said they could soldier thru but it just seems cruel cos you know how Nym likes to snuggle
> 
> Bran: Don't we, tho
> 
> Robb: Can you even be, like, DEATHLY allergic to dogs? I thought that was for, like, peanuts and shit?
> 
> Bran: I think you can be deathly allergic to anything
> 
> Arya: So comforting, Branno
> 
> Arya: Their names are Alyn and Alys (the twins)
> 
> Arya: Hill, of course
> 
> Arya: Think they're the same age as you Rick
> 
> Rickon: Okay yeah cool

"Uh, three days? Or more? If Arya's intel is correct they'll be here Tuesday through Thursday, and then possibly through the weekend? I'm sure I can use Arya's couch if it's too long, Lya."

Lyanna gave her softer smile. "Yeah, no, Rick, my couch is yours, use it whenever you like. Shir, you want to pick a day for a sleepover?"

Shireen's brow furrowed into that almost Stannis-like expression she got when she was recalling or visualizing information. "Probably Tuesday? I don't want to skip family dinner again, so not Wednesday. Lemme check my schedule but I think Tuesday's probably the best."

Lya beamed. "Whichever day is great, love."

Stark Sib Group Chat (members: 7)

> Rickon: Should be fine, Lya says I can sleep on her couch so they can have a bed and a couch if needed
> 
> Rickon: Guess missing Shaggy is good for something at least
> 
> Robb: Awwwwww
> 
> Sansa: Awwwww
> 
> Bran: Awwwwwwwww
> 
> Rickon: Hey but that means we don't know if they'll still be here for Friday dinner? Sure we'd all like to meet them and hang
> 
> Arya: Yeah actually we were thinking of doing that Thurs this week anyway so we can PARTY on Smith's Day
> 
> Arya: Guess Nym can hang out outside for a few hours :)
> 
> Arya: If it works for you three?
> 
> Arya: Also, Rick, you can always have the couch here if it's too many days for Lya, especially if they stay for the weekend
> 
> Sansa: So you're going to introduce Gendry's new family members to Ricky and his deviant lifestyle?! I can't wait to see this
> 
> Arya: Well, Shireen IS their cousin, so
> 
> Sansa: Oh, yeah I forgot
> 
> Arya: Plus, me and my wacky family are just, like, a package deal with Gen now
> 
> Sansa: Awwwwww
> 
> Arya: That includes YOU Sansa

"Arya says they're probably going to do the Friday dinner on Thursday this week, if it works for us? So Gen's siblings—your cousins Shir—Alyn and Alys—will be there, and, uh, Sansa gets in that day too."

Lya and Shireen both nodded. They weren't going to miss it—he knew Shireen was fascinated to meet any of the new cousins that Robert's divorce and its aftermath had turned up, and guessed that Lya wanted to be where Rick and Shireen were. Working late again was unlikely, since Lya'd said her project would hopefully be finished by Tuesday and Shireen rarely had to work late—he thought, anyway. And Rick was probably the only one who was nervous about Sansa. She _seemed_ so harmless, especially compared to Arya.

Rick typed out a quick "it works" to Arya and put his phone back down.

"So, uh, we are, I guess, continuing to be outed." Lya muttered, not looking as concerned as her words might have implied.

"Yeah, I guess." He didn't feel too worried about some as-yet-faceless Baratheon cousins, either. Hopefully they weren't pricks, but . . . yeah. Not gonna stop him.

"How is the crosstalk with your siblings, Rick?" Shireen asked, also looking content. Rickon knew she was invested in meeting her "new" cousins, but he'd also never seen her try to blunt or hide anything about who she was when meeting _anyone_ new, so, she was probably fine.

"Fine, I guess? Yeah, fine. Sansa is being . . . uh, strangely encouraging? Robb is just bemused, Bran is trying to play all-knowing, Arya's threatening but you already know that, Theon is . . . well, Theon. Of course. But I get the feeling Robb is holding him back some and maybe he's a little . . . jealous, or something? He seems off his game, honestly." Rick smirked. "Oh and Jon is . . . reasonable. Thinks it's fine. Normal. Wants to move on to a new conversation." He rolled his eyes, but truly he was enormously grateful that at least _one_ of his siblings (cousin, really, but who cared) was _not_ making a big deal of it. He still felt like he shouldn't be as worried about Sansa's reaction as he apparently was.

"Good, that's _good._ " Lya smiled. "Jory and Lyra are acting like _they_ masterminded all this, just because I asked them for advice, _gods,_ " she rolled her eyes, "and my other sisters are varying levels of concerned, but they pretty much know better than to try to _guide_ me, so I think mine are cool too. Well, Dacey probably disapproves. But she'll not push it."

"And so far parents are not included in the gossip?" Shireen, not having siblings, seemed to have moved on to worrying about the next, more daunting, prospect.

"Yeah, no one seems to have thought different from Arya about burdening my parents with this yet. We'll see how long it lasts, though," Rick mused. "Someone's bound to slip up eventually. Odds are definitely on Robb. I'll probably get a concerned call from Mom. I doubt Dad will touch it with a ten-foot pole, honestly. Unless Mom is concerned _enough_ to make him."

He hoped there would be some time before it came up with his parents. They tended to be less concerned with trying to control Rickon than his siblings, partly because he was the youngest and partly from frustration with his willfulness, he imagined. He wasn't sure whether this would fall into a category Catelyn felt obligated to meddle in, though. Probably. She'd calmed down and largely didn't try to control her children's lives nearly as much as she had when Robb and Sansa were young, fortunately (he suspected she'd learned better from her obvious failures with Sansa), but there was still a knee-jerk response to anything that wasn't . . . how she'd pictured it, he guessed? Yeah, he'd be in for it sooner or later.

"Well, _my_ mom probably heard from Dacey or Aly already," Lya hesitantly offered. "But I doubt I'll hear about it one way or the other. She tends to be hands-off with romantic advice. Seems like she knows better than to try, given her uh . . . apparent asexuality." Lya looked less sure than she sounded. "For instance, I know she knows I'm queer; Aly and Jory were teasing me about it once when she was in the room, and it's been mentioned a half-dozen more times than that, but, she, like, never had much to say about it. Like, grunts, and carries on talking or whatever. She's always just, uh . . . expected us to figure that stuff out, I guess. I honestly doubt she's even surprised. Which is fine by me." Lya breathed. She appeared to have spoken her piece.

Shireen licked her lips nervously. It gave him flashbacks to the texture of them on his own, and he shivered. "Well, Dad will . . . definitely, uh, _care_ ," she managed. "I really am _not_ sure how to even talk to him about it. He hasn't had many . . . _good_ relationships? Like, his marriage to Mom was an unmitigated disaster, and since, since the divorce I mean, he's had, I mean, don't, like, _tell_ anyone, _gods,_ but he had a . . . _lover_ for a while and she was . . . uh, better than Mom for him? I guess? But not, like, _good?_ Like, I'm pretty sure she was part of some creepy cult. And she took off when she couldn't convert him, I think? And, well, I think he's pretty suspicious of romance in general." She finished with a rush. "So I think he might actually overcome his tendency to just . . . _not_ _speak_ , y'know, in this case." She laughed, a little wildly. "At least he knows I like girls now!"

Rick looked at her, and at Lya, who looked concerned for Shireen, and flung his arms wide. "Look, loves, don't, I mean, not _don't_ worry, but, like, don't worry _too_ much? Okay? Like, one of the upsides of all this is we have, like, each other for support. And we've already gotten pretty far just on being willing to talk things through. So let's just . . . keep doing that. Whatever needs to be said. Yeah?" They moved into his arms, and the three of them tangled together in a comforting hug (which was also _hot_ because touching them was just so full of fucking molten fucking _fire_ ). He could see them both smiling at him, so he felt content.

Tentatively, he admitted, "Uh, for example, I'm, uh, I'm nervous about seeing Sansa. For some reason; I'm not even really sure why, I guess?" He breathed out. Yes, he could _fucking_ take his own advice and fucking _confide_ in his girlfriends, who deserved to know if he was nervous. He could.

Lya looked at him sharply. "Well, that kinda makes sense, Rick. I mean, she's kinda like, uh, mom number two to you, isn't she?" And there it was, her keen eye, cutting it down to the marrow.

"Uh. Yeah, I guess it's something like that." Despite Sansa's many failed relationships, despite (or maybe _because of,_ in a way) the fact that she'd declared a year ago that she was _so bad_ at relationships that she was taking a year off from any possible romantic entanglements—and that part of the reason, he knew, that Arya was keen on _partying_ on Smith's Day was to celebrate Sansa's successful completion of her year-long pledge—he felt like her approval had always been something he craved, _especially_ when it came to the romantic sphere.

And he supposed Lyanna had it right. When he'd been small, and Catelyn had occasionally been so overwhelmed with parenting a growing pile of young adults that she sometimes forgot some of how to care for a small child, Sansa had picked up the slack and sung him to sleep, administered first aid to his stuffed toys, and admired his sloppy pillow forts and block palaces.

Sometimes, when he's been a teenager and Catelyn (as well as Ned, who firmly inhabited a "Dad" sphere that did _not_ cover romantic advice to children too young, in his view, to need it) dug in her heels and insisted Rick was _too young_ for something, Sansa had been the one to see that he'd do what he would do, and that he'd be more receptive to advice than to prohibitions. So, yeah, most of his early dating advice had come from her. And some saves from sketchy situations he'd gotten into; and couple of rides he'd given in and admitted he needed, when drunk, though Arya, and later Bran and Jojen, had taken over those two roles when Sans had moved down to King's Landing.

There was also a pretty real possibility that Sansa would be moving to Storm's End somewhere in the relatively near future. The shop she'd opened had done well; so well that she was keen to branch out—to hand over the reins of the King's Landing shop to her business partner, Margaery, and open another elsewhere. She was tired of life in King's Landing, she'd said—it wasn't her scene, and really hadn't been for a while. Now that Rickon was in Storm's End, he suspected that she felt she could move there to be near her family and not feel like a burden on Arya alone. Either way, she'd likely be a more constant presence in his life soon, whenever soon was, and he cringed at the thought of her displeased with him.

He snapped to himself when he realized both women were looking at him expectantly. "Uh. Yeah. I think I need her, um, approval, like, most of all? Because, she uh, saw all my fucking mistakes and knows my weaknesses and has put the most . . . um, _care_ into helping me learn to be honest with myself and treat people right and stuff? Even though, no, maybe, _because,_ even, _because_ her relationships have mostly been such shit, 'cause I know she'll always worry over how things can go wrong?"

Shireen's eyes were big and bright, and her smile was soft. "Yeah, Rick, that makes sense." Lya looked . . . _proud?_ Fuck. _How do I deserve these women?_

"You really don't . . . neither of you really mind how fucking . . . _young_ I am?" His voice only squeaked a little. "I mean, I know I can be immature sometimes, I know I'm an absolute _shit_ every once in a while, and I _try,_ gods, to be even-keeled but I've always been utter shit at it and . . ." he broke off because they were both _squeezing_ him and his breath left him in a whoosh. He inhaled.

"Rick, we _know_ what you're like," Lya started. "That's part of the appeal of you, right, Shir? That we know exactly what we're in for?"

Shireen, eyes still huge and wet, was nodding vigorously. "You are one of the most, uh, _straightforward_ people, Rick, and that makes it easy to l . . . to feel, like, like this about you. To, uh, _be with_ you. I think I pretty much _knew_ how you felt about me, even if I wasn't letting myself think it through all the way, and it was . . . _easy_ to feel things for you too." She blushed, again.

Lya was nodding now. "Yeah, it would have been way _fucking hells_ harder to have that whole 'I-like-you-and-also-someone-else-I'm-not-saying-who' conversation if you weren't so _obvious,_ Rick," she laughed.

He grinned. They really liked him. Even knowing his shit. Maybe this really was gonna be okay.

— — —


	5. SHIREEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prelude to smut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have given up on waiting a day between posting each of these and I'm just going to do it as I edit them, so enjoy! I'd love if you'd comment and tell me what you think :)

After their rainy afternoon spent . . . well, making out like teenagers, if Shireen was being honest, _and_ discussing their feelings like responsible adults, the threesome agreed to meet up again Tuesday night. Shireen was expected for dinner with Dad tonight, and it had felt too . . . well, a little too much for any of them to suggest meeting up or going out again this weekend. The rain had abated in time for Shireen to head home without any more drenching.

Dinner with Stannis was comfortable. Shireen sat at the too-big-for-two long dark table and enjoyed their quiet conversation and their silences and their little apartment filled with dark wood, a turtle, and only _useful_ objects and books and papers, the evidence of their two professions, both somewhat clerical in nature: whereas Shireen had gone into accounting, Dad was a lawyer, and one of the best in Storm's End.

Shireen hoped he wouldn't take too much notice of her unusual level of distractedness, but it couldn't be helped, really: the intense moments of the afternoon kept rushing back to her. At least her own clothes had been dry enough to wear by the time she'd left Lya's; she wouldn't have liked to explain to her dad whose sundress she was wearing that only came down barely past her ass. At least Lya had leant her undies; she was almost 100 percent certain that Rick hadn't had anything on under those shorts of Dacey's and the effect the afternoon's kisses and, uh, _touches_ had had on him had been pretty obvious. But _seven hells,_ she'd been _wearing_ Lya's _underwear!_

She shivered, and then smirked to herself: it had felt good to have that effect on Rickon, even if she knew it wasn't all her—today she'd felt bold, and she _knew_ , which felt nice, that _some_ of it was her. That they both _wanted_ her, that she was _part_ of it. She'd been dancing around those feelings with Rick, in their comfortable best-buds camaraderie that had always, since the beginning, felt pent up and warm with more than just friendship; and gods she was so relieved that the sparks she'd felt every time she and Lyanna were close weren't one-sided either.

She was also relieved that she'd made clear so early on her need to take the physicality of the relationship slowly. She knew enough about Lyanna to know it probably wasn't her natural pace, whereas Shireen thought that Rickon likely would be comfortable at whatever pace she or Lya set. But if this afternoon was anything to go by, the reality of sex with more than one person at once was going to be overwhelming to the senses, and she really needed to ease into it.

 _Gods, I'm drifting again._ Dad was looking quizzical. She asked him about his day and heard more than she wanted to about his beef with the downstairs neighbor, who evidently was a _philistine,_ but it helped ground her some. Outside, darkness had fallen and a foggy chill was creeping in.

She went to bed that night buzzing with sexual energy, and when she eventually slept, her dreams were sweet.

— — —

During the long quiet of Sunday afternoon, Shireen did her laundry and prepared some lunches for herself and Dad for the week in their little bright kitchen. She cleaned out Garin's tank, talking to him in a soft voice. He sat in a bucket on a stool while she worked: she imagined that he looked like Garin the Great in his cage, calling down his curse in sorrowful Chroyane. She put him back in when she was done, and he looked like a regular turtle again. She read a little, and tried to watch a nature show but, _oh,_ would she ever hear Aemon Targaryen's voice the same way again?

Eventually, she lay on the low comfortable bed in her little cave of a room and called Devan and caught up with his news about business school and his plans with Maric and his volunteer work, and got off the phone feeling better about that friendship than she had in ages. She was glad she'd thought to call today for another reason too: Devan had been talking about his parents and Shireen had realized she'd almost forgotten Davos and Marya's anniversary. She wrote herself a note to check with Dad and see what he had planned for it; she could probably help if he was planning any kind of surprise for them.

In the evening after dinner, she settled down and read for a few hours: the romance series she was in the middle of wasn't high literature, but it was well written and it . . . well, she probably didn't need extra stimulation of _that_ sort after yesterday, but it was _good._

That night when she turned in, lying in her low bed looking at the stars through her one high window, Shireen couldn't help picturing Rick and Lya and wondering what it would be like to _be_ with them. She remembered that brief moment when Rick had pulled off his wet shirt and his wet dark red curls had stuck to his neck and the whole pale skinny _tallness_ of him had been there and it was just so . . . smooth, and her fingers had twitched, longing to run themselves up and down his chest. His small nipples had been hard from the cold of being drenched and there was the smallest dusting of hair around them that was a darker auburn than the curls that fell in his eyes.

She closed her eyes and she could almost feel again the pressure of his hand on her hip, his kisses on her neck and shoulder and collarbone. The kiss he'd left so tenderly on her _scars,_ gods, what, _how,_ but it had felt good, the strange sensation of the patchy sensory input from the patchwork of dead and live tissue whispering into her synapses and mixing with the serious emotional overload of the sating of her weird particular skin hunger there. His hands running up and down her back while she'd been kissing Lya, and _gods, Lya, Lya,_ Lya's whole bare back and how her lovely round ass had looked in those lacy white panties she'd stripped into, wet, in the hallway; Lya kissing her, biting her, _licking_ her, touching her fingers in Rickon's soft beautiful hair, _every moment,_ just _gods._

She ran her fingers down and across her own long belly, slowly, feather-light. She could almost feel Lya's lips on her own, Rickon's lips on her skin. She trailed her fingertips up and down, slowly, farther down, closer to the soft grey cotton underwear she'd worn to bed that _wasn't_ the strange, slightly-too-small pull of Lya's _fucking_ pretty little yellow boyshorts. She slipped her fingers into them anyway, down into the folds of her thrumming cunt, and _gods, I've really made myself this wet just_ thinking _about them?_

And in the dark of her quiet room, she grinned. She reveled in the buzzing high that her thoughts of those gorgeous humans who were soon, really _soon_ to be her _lovers_ ignited in her brain. Her fingers trailed up and down, just caressing the lips of her cunt, up and down, until she could barely stand the warm hum of it, and slowly she circled her clit, the bundle of nerves on fire, getting closer, pulling in. She kept the slow pace, and tightened her circles, trying to keep them even through the jerky motion of her hips starting to buck and stutter. And then the fiery wave came crashing through her, and her hips jerked, her fingers slowly moving back and forth, slower and slower, across the hood of her clit until her cunt finished clenching tight around nothing and her head lolled back to rights and her breathing slowed.

The buzzing in her blood wasn't gone, but Shireen thought now she'd probably be able to sleep, at least.

— — —

Monday at work Shireen had never been more grateful that Lyanna's desk and her own office were separated by half a floor. The pounding of her heart in her chest and the sweet heat between her thighs she felt every time she walked to the break room or the bathrooms and passed Lya's desk were simply something she couldn't take too much of and actually get productive work done. In the afternoon, she shut the door to her office and tried to put all distractions out of her mind and accomplish the tasks that she needed to finish that day.

By 6 p.m. Shireen had completed her task list for the day and gotten a little ways into tomorrow's for good measure, and she felt good about it when she decided it was time to head home. She passed Lya's desk on the way out and from the blush that popped onto Lyanna's cheeks as she leaned against the wall saying goodbye for the day, she realized she wasn't the only one distracted and she was glad she'd made herself focus in the afternoon not just for her own sake. Lya looked relaxed, though, so Shireen guessed that the project was finally either complete or close enough that tomorrow's deadline wouldn't cause any sweat to the team. She gave Lya a grin and a promise to text in order to plan their "sleepover" tomorrow and went home.

Dad was out at an evening appointment and Shireen couldn't settle; she didn't want to watch television in the empty living room, and even her novel didn't appeal to her: the truth was, she didn't feel she could sit still, even with such incentives. So she made use of the remaining daylight and took a walk around the neighborhood, reveling in each sensation she could capture in the sphere of her attention: the cooling breeze shifting her hair around her temples; leaves drifting down and twirling along the sidewalk and roads; puffy clouds floating past steadily; the glint of the low sun off each car that passed.

She admired the different styles of houses and apartment buildings she passed, trying to guess what each one looked like on the inside; she counted the different types of flowers and growing plants in people's small yards, and felt envy for every well-tended garden patch she spotted. She petted six cats and one friendly dog, and spotted both a woodpecker, high on a telephone pole, and some pretty bird she didn't know the name of that had five colors of feathers in separate sections of its body and wings. When dusk came, she watched the roads clear and the neighbors' lights come on inside their homes, and she headed back to her own.

Just as she walked up the stairs she felt the buzz of a text notification in her back pocket and remembered she'd promised to plan for tomorrow. After taking off her jacket and shoes, she draped herself across the couch near Garin's tank and looked at her phone. More messages were incoming.

Three's company (members: 3)

> Lyanna: Sooo.... tomorrow? Rick, is everything set with Alys and Alyn?
> 
> Rickon: Yeah, Arya said she checked it with them and we're all good. They should get in around noon so I'll set them up here when I get off and see whether they need anything and then I've got to meet Arya at the gym in the afternoon
> 
> Rickon: I should be done there by 4 or so, so I can like grab us all some dinner or something if you two have any requests
> 
> Lyanna: How do you feel about sandwiches from Hot Pie's?
> 
> Shireen: Yasssss, I want the portabella one pls
> 
> Rickon: Yes, definitely, which one you want Lya
> 
> Lyanna: Uh, veggie reuben? NO PICKLES please
> 
> Rickon: Will do
> 
> Rickon: So we meeting up at your place at, what, 7?
> 
> Shireen: Works for me, if that's not too early for you Lya
> 
> Lyanna: Honestly, I'm going crazy not seeing you two goofballs and the fucking sooner the better as far as I'm concerned
> 
> Lyanna: Seeing you at work doesn't count Shir I had to breathe and count to ten every time you passed my desk today damn girl I like those pants, like, a lot
> 
> Shireen: Squeak
> 
> Shireen: I mean, thank you Lya, your jeans are lovely as well
> 
> Shireen: ... And your ass in them ;)
> 
> Rickon: Ahh now I'm just picturing Lya's ass Shir this is NOT HELPING
> 
> Lyanna: So I'm not the only one thirsty as fuck for you two?
> 
> Shireen: No yeah that's a definite yes on mutual thirst
> 
> Rickon: Seconded
> 
> Shireen: Okay, focusing: should I bring blankets or pillows or marshmallows or beer or what
> 
> Lyanna: I am unlikely to say no to beer or marshmallows but I think I've got a good handle on sleeping arrangements
> 
> Lyanna: If you trust me :)
> 
> Rickon: Hmm, OKAY
> 
> Lyanna: See you two hot ass humans tomorrow
> 
> Rickon: Can't wait, girlfriends
> 
> Shireen: See you soon beautiful ones

She may have touched herself again, frantically, _twice,_ before she slept that night.

— — —

Work on Tuesday was much the same, with the anticipation of seeing Lya that evening making it even harder to ignore the buzz and heat she felt every time they passed: Lya's dark brown hair touching her bare shoulder while she answered questions on the telephone; Lya's serious gaze worrying over a pica ruler trying to fit more words on a poured page; Lya's mouth, _gods_ , her mouth that had been on Shireen's just Saturday and she could still _feel_ it there like the softest phantom, Lya's gorgeous mouth eating a cupcake from the box some coworker had left in the break room with a TAKE ONE sign. Shireen tried to cloister herself in her office as much as possible for self-preservation, and finally, _finally,_ the end of the workday came.

When she arrived at Lyanna's apartment door with a six-pack sampler (including two ales, two porters, and two stouts), a generous bag of rainbow marshmallows, and an overnight bag, she was jittery like she hadn't been since she last gave up coffee. Lya's smile when she let her in was like sunshine, though, and helped calm her a little. Lya's comfy dark green hip-hugging sweatpants and brown v-neck shirt had a different effect than _calming_ , per se, but they looked lovely. She breathed.

It wasn't like she hadn't been here plenty of times before, she thought, looking around at the windows and bookshelves and slightly messy kitchen and giant cat. But that put images of _the last time_ in her head, and she found herself standing in the kitchen with the bag of marshmallows still in her hand, staring into space, reliving it, until she jerked and made herself set the food down and _try_ to breathe steadily and be aware of the present or something.

Rick arrived twenty minutes later, dressed in dark jeans and a white scarf and a grey sweater, holding bags of still-hot sandwiches that smelled _heavenly_ and suddenly all she could think of was food. _Bless_ Hot Pie. They sat around Lya's little round table and their knees knocked each other's while they scarfed the very delicious sandwiches and Shireen thanked Lya for the inspired request, and Rick for getting them, at least twice each. Lya's stupidly large cat sat a few feet away on the floor, waiting still and patiently in case anything might be _dropped._

Alys and Alyn had gotten in fine, Rick said, and they seemed like decent folk, if a little nervous and slow to warm up. They'd been very polite and grateful for the loan of Rick's place, and hadn't said much else. And they were the spitting images of Gendry, just like Barra and Edric and the pictures she'd seen of Mya (and Bella, save for her darker skin tone and hair texture). "The seed is strong," Shireen laughed, though she could picture Gendry's exact glare at her words. But gods, Uncle Robert's various spawn all looked _so_ much like him, which made the results of the paternity tests during his divorce seem all too obvious, in retrospect.

She just hoped they'd get along with Gen, and the others whenever they eventually met them, relatively well. Each time Gendry had met a new sibling, it had been tense and emotionally difficult for him, she knew. She'd been there for the last couple of meetings—with Barra and her mother, and with Edric—and she'd heard his stories about the others. Things with Mya had gotten off to a rocky start, she knew, partly because it was the first meeting any of the siblings had had and neither had had a clue how to proceed.

"Did they meet Gen yet?" she ventured.

"No, uh, I mean, yeah, maybe tonight," Rick waffled. "He's staying home from work tomorrow, to spend the day with 'em, and I, uh, I think they're probably having dinner tonight? But Gen was still at the shop and it was Arya with them when I met them."

"Oh. Well, I hope it . . . goes well," Shireen offered lamely.

"Me too," Rick looked soft, and Lyanna nodded. They gave her gentle smiles, and she thought they saw her own nerves about meeting new cousins, but she knew they could see she was nervous for Gen, too. It was so . . . relaxing, how well they knew her. That, whatever was new among them all, they were still her best friends, too.

After they finished eating, Lyanna spent about twenty minutes fussing over her shiny hardly-used fireplace, with Bear looking disapprovingly over her shoulder the _whole_ time, until a cheery fire was going behind the grate. Bear glared at the irregularity of it, of course.

"You gave me the idea with those marshmallows, Shir; it's my first fire this autumn. Temperature is dropping outside so it should be perfect for tonight." Lya ignored Bear and looked proud of herself, and Shireen suppressed the urge to pat her head (just because she could see the top of it) and beamed back at her instead. The warmth emanating from the grate was indeed getting more welcome; she hadn't looked at the forecast and now she wondered whether she'd brought enough layers.

They opened some beers and spread out in front of the fire. Rick challenged Lya to a game of cyvasse, but no one seemed to want to play another round afterwards. Bear had conceded that the fire might be nice and curled up on the floor nearby.

Again the sensations of Saturday threatened to overwhelm her with the almost physical presence of those remembered moments, their quiet sweetness and lust. It seemed as though they were all caught up in the spell of _something probably being about to happen,_ and no one was sure how to take the first step into the story. _In fact,_ Shireen belatedly realized, _it should probably be me._ Given her statement about _slow_ that was evidently setting the pace for this whole thing.

So she blurted, "What did you mean about _trusting_ you, Lya? About . . . sleeping arrangements?" She blushed, as it was not very long past dark and she clearly wasn't asking because she needed to turn in for the night just yet. _Gods, Shireen, why not just ask "Are we all sleeping in your bed, then, Lyanna?"_ She cringed, but Lya looked bright.

"Okay, so, I've been wanting to make that fire, and I have these . . . well, they're Jogos Nhai'i . . . _gods_ , Lya," she stopped herself rambling, tongue-tied, and started again. Seeing Lyanna flustered was heating Shireen's cheeks with something _other_ than embarrassment.

"So I have three, uh, sleeping mats. They're meant for Jory, Aly, and Lyra—because Dacey _would_ want the couch—uh, I'm hosting the Mormont sisters' annual council this year, _finally,_ um two moons from now? And, and I bought them, so that I could . . ." She breathed. "I-thought-we-could-all-sleep-in-front-of-the-fire," she finally rushed out. "Uh, if, if that's not too . . ."

Shireen smiled. Lya flustered was adorable. Adorable and _hot_. "I think that sounds wonderful, Lya." Startled, she remembered it wasn't just her Lya was asking. "If . . . if that's good with you, too, Rick?"

"Uh. Uh, yeah, a chance to curl up in front of a warm fire on a cold night with _you_ two nearby?" His northern brogue was just a tad thicker than usual, as though he was thinking of home. "And, um, whisper stories to each other, or . . ." his gaze was faraway, but she knew what he was seeing was _right here._ "Or, y'know, um, kiss you goodnight?" he ventured, and it seemed like all three of them were trying to hide sighs of relief, that he'd _said the thing_ and they could just . . . stop waiting for it to come up.

Shireen grinned wide. "That sounds lovely." She could feel her eyes sparkling.

Lya still looked a little nervous. "They aren't that thick; I mean, we won't be cold, but they might be kinda hard or . . . I just, uh, you two can always have the couch and the bed if you'd rather?"

Again, Shireen felt moved to help put Lyanna at ease, even though her less-than-confident state was so unusual, in her experience of Lyanna anyway, that she secretly loved it.

"Why don't we set them up in front of the fire, and then if any of us gets uncomfortable, we can always move later?" And Lyanna nodded, smiled, and seemed to relax some.

"Yeah." She moved to the hall closet and started huffing until Rick went and rescued her from under a thick navy blue bundle with a wide strap about the middle. He hefted it by the strap and waited until Lya handed him a second one (this one brown) before taking it in his other hand and hauling them both toward the fire. Shireen, anticipating, was pushing the coffee table closer to the couch so there'd be more room to lay them out. Bear scrambled to the top of his tree again, looking displeased with the disturbance to his space.

Lya followed Rick with the last one, which was dark grey, looking slightly annoyed at Rick's casual show of strength. She tossed it unceremoniously on the floor and went back to the closet, pulling pillows and blankets out into a pile that she hefted back in their direction.

Shireen and Rickon scrambled to untie and unroll the mats, laying them out across the floor. Lya dumped her pile on the couch and started chucking blankets at each one; Shireen got the idea and shook out the blanket that had landed on the mat closest to her, covering it and tucking it around the sides. Lya chucked a pillow and another blanket at it and Shireen left those and moved to cover the next mat: Rick was working on the third one. When they were done, they had a cozy nest of three beds that looked decently comfortable all laid out in front of the fire. Shireen tried not to think too long about how _close together_ they were.

"So, how about hot chocolate to go with those marshmallows?" Lyanna suggested, eyes sparkling. Rick actually _groaned,_ in a manner far too similar to how he had groaned when she'd kissed his _neck,_ on Saturday, on, _oh,_ on that _couch_ right fucking _there,_ and she could feel the heat pooling in her core as though her body was responding to _those kisses,_ rather than just his, fucking, natural response to the idea of hot chocolate, and she could feel her cheeks heat. She chanced a look at Lya and felt better when she saw Lya's eyes glittering and dark; at least she wasn't the only one.

"Guess _that's_ a yes . . ." Lya tried to cover her blush with an eyeroll and stomped toward the kitchen, brushing off their offers to help. Shireen and Rickon sank down on the mats and stared at the fire in that lovely companionable silence she'd thought was unique to her relationship with Stannis, before she'd met Rickon.

She breathed a while, relishing the sounds and the warmth of the fire and the occasional bump from the kitchen as Lyanna, never particularly _quiet,_ boiled water and found, Shireen hoped, that good chocolate mix she had brought to share at work last winter.

Then she had a thought.

"Rick, d'you think, uh, what do you think Lya was . . . doing . . . at Arya and Gen's?" She felt she should be more specific but then she saw in his face that he knew exactly when she meant, and the image in her mind of that pretty pink all over Lya's cheeks and down her neck to her chest above that purple sweater was enough to make her blush all over again. "Do you think she was . . ." _How_ do _I finish that question, though?_

"Uh, yeah, uh, yes, I think she probably, uh, yeah, got herself off in the bathroom, if that's what you're asking, Shir," his eyes twinkled but he was blushing too. "I mean, I, uh, can't prove it, but I think she, uh. Sometimes. Just, uh, does that?" He blushed deeper.

"Yes. Yeah. That's . . . what I was asking. Uh. Wasn't that . . . like, pretty, uh, _fast?_ To, uh, do all that?" She now was having an explicit conversation about the comparative amount of time it took herself and her girlfriend to _masturbate,_ somehow, with her _boyfriend,_ except it was half awkward stammering. And blushing.

"I mean, yeah, it seemed pretty, uh, fast to me too, but, I uh, I've, uh . . . _suspected_ that she, uh, was maybe doing . . . that . . . like, uh, like a couple times before?" He stammered. "Probably? And it took . . . uh, about the same amount of time, I think? So maybe that's just . . . Lya?" He was starting to laugh now. She pictured Rickon, _guessing_ that Lya had just _masturbated_ in the bathroom or whatever while he was hanging out with her, and not saying a word, and she couldn't keep from laughing either.

"Well, maybe we should just, like, ask her about it? Instead of speculating?" She grinned. "Since we theoretically _can_ , like, talk about stuff like that now," she added.

He swallowed thickly. _Yeah, actually, that might be a_ bit _bold for me,_ Shireen was thinking, but then: "Ask me about what?"

Lya was there, carrying two _huge_ steaming mugs of hot chocolate towering with rainbow marshmallows. Shireen and Rickon both blushed hard again, and Lya grinned. "Actually, hold that thought, I need _my_ chocolate," she said, handing them each a wide mug and stomping back to the kitchen. Shireen looked at Rick, who looked at her. It wasn't panic. It was just a _little_ scary, to ask someone something like that. But . . . she sipped the marshmallow foam atop her chocolate.

"Now, what's making you both blush?" Lya was back, third steaming mug in hand. Shireen set hers on the floor to cool.

Rick opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and he shut it. Shireen thought it was fairer for her to ask anyway, since she'd brought it up. She tried to force words out, and came up with "Lya, uh, were you, uh . . . at Arya and Gen's . . ." before she lost her nerve. Lya started to grin, but she blushed too. "Were you, uh, what-made-you-so-flushed-when-you-came-out-of-the-bathroom?" She panted a little.

Lya's eyes were wide and her pupils were too. "Uh. I. Uh, I, _gods,_ well, you two are _so sexy_ and I, uh, get a little . . ."

Shireen suddenly worried, and interrupted, "I mean, you _don't_ have to tell us if you don't want to Lya, uh . . ." with seriousness, but Lya brushed the air aside with her hands.

"No, no, I'm, I mean, I'm not _ashamed;_ I'm well known for not having much, uh, shame, I mean, it's just, okay, fine, I, uh, was thinking of you and I got _off_ in there. And then I was relaxed enough that I just, didn't, worry about whether you'd notice, I guess?" Her eyes were glittering with mirth and lust and, maybe, _pride?_

Shireen grinned. "Well, and Rick, uh . . ." She suddenly realized _after_ she'd started talking again that maybe Rickon wouldn't want her to mention what else he'd said about it.

He grinned, too, though, and looked sheepish. "Yeah, Lya, I, uh . . . might have guessed that you were . . . um? Doing the same, a few other times?" How did Rick _look_ like _that,_ embarrassed and goofy and sexy and full of desire, all at once? He ran a long hand through his curls. Their chocolates were cooling off—Shireen's was _delicious_ —and the fire crackled merrily.

Lya grinned wider. "Yeah? I thought I was being sneakier, back before . . . all _this_ ," she didn't really look embarrassed, though, still. "You could tell, huh?" She picked up her chocolate and took a small sip, and then a bigger one.

"I mean, yeah, that flush you get is really, uh, impressive . . ." Rickon grinned his goofy grin, and Shireen couldn't stop a giggle from bubbling over.

She felt she should say something, but what came out was "You can . . . like, do that that _fast,_ Lya?" and she was a _little_ mortified at herself for just coming out and asking, but she was curious, too, and so far Lya hadn't reacted with any of the shame or embarrassment that were . . . well, the kind of "ingrained social bullshit" that Lya probably _despised,_ really.

It might have come out just a tad wistful, because Rick's head snapped back to her from over his chocolate mug as if he'd _just_ realized, at _this_ fucking point in the conversation, that perhaps Shireen also masturbated occasionally, and she had to grin and roll her eyes at him.

"What? Can't a girl ask for pointers?" Just to rub it in a little. His pupils were blown wide. Had he _really_ not considered that she, a twenty-five year old sexual being, might pleasure herself? Or, yeah, more likely he just hadn't expected her to _talk_ about it, maybe? They'd never really talked about sex, even with how comfortable their friendship was.

Lya laughed that low growl, and looked _delighted._ "Well, I can show you my secrets," she said, waggling her eyebrows, and gods, Shireen _really_ hadn't thought through how _much_ this conversation was going to turn her on, "but I . . . I mean, every woman's body is different, and the same things might not work exactly the same for you, love," she kept grinning, and then, "the main secret is, uh, is _grinding_ on things . . ." here she finally looked a little hesitant, like maybe they might find it less than sexy. She recovered with more chocolate, and Shireen sipped hers too.

Shireen tried to picture Lyanna _grinding_ and, though she was still unsure of what she'd meant by _things,_ it was still decidedly sexy. Rickon must have felt the same.

"Wow, _hot._ Like, what kind of things, Lya, if you . . . only if you want to tell us . . . ?" he hesitated.

"Uh, like, the counter or a . . . desk? Like mostly any sturdy horizontal surface with a, um, corner?" Her face was blazing red, but she was still defiantly grinning.

Shireen thought about Lya, in the bathroom at Arya and Gen's, _grinding_ on the corner of the counter under the vanity lights, her body arching, and wow, _yeah,_ that was definitely _hot._ She said so. Lya grinned more.

Shireen decided to be brave, curious to see Rick's face, and feeling the need to balance the pointed curiosity of the conversation so it didn't all just fall on Lya. She took a breath and set her cup down again.

"I usually . . . well, I mean, it takes me longer; it's a, it's kind of a slow, sensual kind of thing for me," she started. Rick choked a little. Lya glittered. They were rapt, and she saw how they waited for her to say more, and _gods,_ the way they looked at her, gods, she _wanted_ to say more, to keep making them gape and stare and blush; it was heady, so she opened her mouth. "The last time, uh, last night, I, uh, _gods,_ this is not as easy as I thought it would be to talk about, I, uh, I came twice thinking about you, you two, about _Saturday,_ " she finished without squeaking, barely.

" _Fuck._ " Rick's mouth was open. Lya's gaze was like a hawk again.

Rick shifted while setting his own mug down, and Shireen had a moment in which she realized with clarity that he was _hard,_ trying to hide it but definitely he _was;_ her _words_ and probably Lya's too had just made him _hard_ without them kissing or even really touching and then she felt _drunk_ on it, on this power to arouse these two gorgeous, beautiful people who were like _gods_ , really, they were so beautiful. So she told them.

"I mean you're just so, so beautiful, both of you and that was just so _lovely_ kissing you and touching you and _feeling_ you both touching me and, gods . . . yeah. I haven't stopped thinking about it. Since Saturday," she finished quietly.

Lyanna picked up her hot chocolate mug, took another sip, and carefully set it on the coffee table, near the middle, away from the mats on the floor. Then she reached for Rick's and Shireen's, as well, her eyes dark and gleaming all the while. Then she sank back down on the mat in the middle and reached deliberately, slowly, for their hands. Shireen felt butterflies explode in her belly, and she _loved_ it. Her other hand found Rickon's, and they sat themselves close to each other, on the mat Lya had claimed, _close_ but still only holding hands.

And they _looked_ at one another, with all that lust worked up by the conversation brimming in their eyes, and Shireen just _couldn't_ wait one more second when it felt so inevitable, so she let go of their hands and reached for Rickon's hip and Lyanna's hair and she pulled them gently closer and then her lips were on Lya's again and Rick's head was behind Lyanna, kissing the back of her neck, and Lya was practically in Shireen's lap with one hand wrapped around Shireen's back and the other reaching behind her into Rick's hair, and Shireen trailed her fingers down Lya's neck to her collarbone and then lower around the outside of her breast which felt so warm through her shirt, and, _gods._

What fucking molten, golden, lovely _pleasure_ to be touching them again. On Saturday the fire had built up in her bit by bit; but now it just turned on, suddenly, like a furnace, igniting at the first touch, and she was back there, back _here,_ practically drowning in them.

Shireen reached out to stroke her right hand down Rick's back and Lya was humming, throaty, into her _mouth_ , and her tongue was sliding slowly across Shireen's lips, and she broke the kiss and gasped as Rick's hand slid around to her belly, and Shireen gasped as well, as Lya's hand touched her _skin_ under the soft blue shirt she wore. With air in her lungs, she fought to hold on to her thoughts, and pushed the one that had suddenly jumped to the front of her mind out her lips, before she lost hold of it.

— — —


	6. LYANNA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude with family dinner and relaxing time

— — —

When Shireen gasped and their kiss broke, Lyanna did _not_ expect what came out of her mouth. But then, Shireen kept surprising her (and Rick too, judging by his sudden stillness, _again_ ) tonight.

"So do you . . . get off, um, thinking about us, uh, too, Rick?" She stuttered, but smiled shyly. Lyanna's eyes were inches from her face, and she grinned, once again amazed and delighted by this frankly sexual side of Shireen that she hadn't really shown before, at least to Lya (or, _obviously,_ to Rick). Shireen smiled back shyly.

Behind her, she could _hear_ the deep blush on Rickon's face as he stammered, "Uh, yeah, uh, I mean, yes, um. I usually, um." His kisses down her neck had stalled, and his hand traced thoughtful circles across Lyanna's belly, probably without his conscious attention. Shireen's hand in Lya's hair twirled and stroked gently.

Rick took a deep breath and stilled again. "Yeah, yes, I often, uh, do that. Think of you. I mean, one or the other, until. Uh, last week, and then, then. Um. Both?" He spoke more clearly, and then added, mumbling, "Most mornings."

Shireen looked pleased with herself, a little shocked, and sparkling with mirth and desire, all at once. Lyanna wasn't really shocked: she recalled a conversation in which she and Rick had danced around the idea of masturbation without disclosing any specifics, and besides he was nineteen and _male_ and it probably would have indicated something _wrong_ if he didn't jerk off, like, all the time, she guessed, but. She had a question.

"How long have you been thinking of us when you come, Rick?" She purred it. Couldn't hurt to keep the spotlight on him for a minute, if he was game, she thought. Shireen's interest was evident in her eyes and how her body held itself mostly still.

She very specifically _didn't_ ask whether the frequency of him thinking about _Lyanna_ versus _Shireen_ was equal, because it was clear already that certain kinds of questions needed to be avoided, here. She didn't care, really. It was enough to know, as he'd admitted when she first spoke with him, that he cared deeply enough for both of them not to be satisfied choosing one over the other; that he clearly responded to the touch of either, fiercely. It mirrored her own desire and seemed balanced enough. Whether some kind of lopsidedness would eventually emerge among the three of them, she couldn't say; it seemed all right so far, and they would have to approach _that_ creatively _if_ they encountered it.

Besides, Lyanna thought, it would be hypocritical of her, really, to _expect_ anyone to imagine her while masturbating, when, for her, the act rarely synced with imaginings of people—either real people like Shir and Rick, or even imagined lovers. Not that she didn't employ her proficient imagination to imagine sexual situations; not that she hadn't imagined in detail what sex with each of them would be like . . . she just usually did that in the comfortable moments before slumber, or in daydreams when her mind wasn't fully occupied; those types of fantasies turned her on, but they didn't really get her off, and doing that was so easy and quick that she generally thought, _I would like to get off_ , and then she did so, with no enhancement needed.

Rick groaned a little before responding. "Oh, gods. Uh. Ages, really, if I'm honest. Uh, practically since I've known you. Each. I mean, I wouldn't have . . . I mean, I'm just not good at . . . ah, man, I guess I've just, really, _wanted_ you both for so damn _long._ " He groaned a little. "Y'know. I felt guilty, a bit, but . . ." His mouth, tentatively, returned to her shoulder. Kissing softly. He mumbled, "I don't think it quite lives up to the real thing, though," and she smiled. Shireen smiled, too.

The fire crackled, the warmth of it flooding over her. Bear, from his perch, looked at her, his eyes saying _the fuck you doing, weird human,_ but his posture content, and Lya felt high on this _fucking_ awesome night.

She looked at Shireen's face, and, since she looked satisfied by Rick's answer, her _fucking beautiful_ deep blue eyes dark with wide pupils, Lya kissed her again, softly, and then moved her hand up to Shir's neck, pushing gently, tilting her head, and left her mouth and kissed her chin, her neck, her ear, her cheek with those crazy scars that Lyanna honestly felt just a little _jealous_ of, even knowing the depth of emotion Shir probably had toward them and that she couldn't completely fathom that.

Their texture was smooth and rough in turns on her lips, and she tasted them with her tongue and savored Shireen's gasp and the gentle _pull_ of her hand trailing down Lya's neck, before she continued down her neck to her collarbone.

She felt Rick shift behind her, sitting closer, pushing her ass up until she was balanced between Rick's knees and Shir's legs, which were crossed and one of which Rick was running his left hand up softly. Lya threw her legs forward over Shireen's and nestled close between them, moving her mouth down to the triangle of skin visible above Shireen's blue shirt, pulling at her waist with one hand and releasing Rick's head so he could kiss her more freely with the other. She let that hand fall down to one of the legs Rick was unfolding forward under Shireen's, and slid backwards up it slowly, making him gasp.

She was aware, with that part of her not completely focused on Rick's lips and Shireen's hand and the feeling of Shir's skin under her own mouth, of the hot proximity of her core to Shireen's lap; and of Rick's well, crotch, pressing up against her backside where she could feel, much more clearly than the brief touch she'd had of it Saturday, the hot length of his cock hard under, well, more layers this time, she supposed. It felt good. Too good, if she kept thinking about it; so she tried to drive her attention back to running her hands up Shireen's naked back again under that lovely shirt.

She felt Shireen startle a little at her touch on bare skin, so she mumbled, "Is this all right, love?" into the skin of her chest where she was currently occupied.

"Yes." Shireen's voice was low, but sure. "Yes, Lya, and Rick, too, oh, that feels lovely."

Rick's hand was there as well, she realized, and their fingers brushed as they trailed up Shireen's soft warm skin, almost up to her shoulders and back down, in concert. She could feel Rick's other hand softly sliding under the hem of her own shirt on her belly and he mumbled, "s'okay, Lya?" around where he was kissing, _biting_ her shoulder at the neck of her shirt and she hummed, " _Yes,_ " enthusiastically.

To emphasize, she _pushed_ her ass back into Rick's lap just a little, and he _groaned_ that groan again that, when he'd made it in response to the idea of chocolate, had sent a shock of heat and _wet_ straight through her cunt (and Shireen's too, from the way she'd looked at Lya). And it did the same damn thing now, and she couldn't help gasping a little, again. _Oh._

And Shir was practically _shivering_ under their touch, and her hand was touching Lya's skin, pushing up Lya's shirt, and then Rick's lips left her neck and leaned to the side and he was kissing Shireen and Lyanna turned so she could snake her arm about Rick and though her ass lost contact with his warm cock it was still there on her thigh and she could see his face again, lips and tongue softly tasting Shireen and fucking _Oh._ This was _heavenly._

The three of them kissed in front of the fire for what felt like hours. Slowly, languidly, not hurrying, enjoying every sensation and thought and touch and slide of fingers and tongues and limbs, and she had to admit that this was _so lovely,_ just as Shireen would name it, and that yes she _wanted_ them with a blinding heat, wanted to watch their faces as they came, wanted to find out what Shireen's cunt looked and smelled and _tasted_ like and how it felt when her walls fluttered around Lya's fingers, wanted to palm Rick's warm hard length and find out exactly what shape it was and how it felt to the touch and watch it weep for her, but this was _so_ _wonderful_ and she reveled in the anticipation. Which was going to keep her dreaming and fantasizing about them multiple times a day for a _while,_ and might godsdamned _kill_ her, but _gods_ was it worth it.

When they finally broke apart, sleepily, reminding each other that it was, definitely, a _work_ night, and smiling goofy grins and groaning because she _knew_ that all of them could have stayed there, just kissing, indefinitely, into the wee hours, if they'd let themselves, they each set a phone alarm, and Lya put one more log on the fire and they lay down on those mats, which were, come to think of it, quite comfortable; Bear came to sit on her feet, and Lya, at least, fell asleep much faster than she'd thought she would.

— — —

She woke once, early, in the still-darkness, when Rick grabbed his trilling phone and made it stop, and quietly hauled himself up and into the bathroom to shower. Bear had fucked off somewhere to do crepuscular cat things. In the dim light she saw Shireen, a foot away, turn over and burrow back into her blanket, and Lya did the same. She drifted in and out of consciousness for a while, aware of Rick's careful quietness as he snuck out to his early shift at Gendry's shop.

After another hour of blissful sleep, her alarm and Shir's went at almost the same time, and they smiled sleepily at each other as they tried to pay attention to getting ready, taking turns with the shower and sharing a quiet breakfast of the oatmeal that Lyanna had most mornings, petting Bear goodbye.

Shireen offered her a ride into the office, and Lya took her up on it, and felt warm inside with fondness for Shireen's adorable careful driving habits and quiet morning conversation. The workday began, and Lya was _so_ grateful that it was only a four-day week and that she had only _two_ more days, rather than three, of trying not to flush and press her thighs together _every_ time Shireen walked by. Was this going to become an issue, them working together? Gods. She tried to focus on the new pages in front of her, on the learning curve of the new style guide, and for the most part, she succeeded in having a relatively productive day. It would be all right.

At lunchtime she ate the sandwich she'd packed outside and checked her phone, seeing that Rick had been texting on his break, and she spent a while catching up with Stark-Baratheon happenings. Presumably, Shireen was still shut in her office, but she must have been on lunch break anyway because she chimed in soon after.

Three's company (members: 3)

> Rickon: I heard from Arya
> 
> Rickon: She says Gen likes A & A well enough and last night went pretty well. She also said they seemed a little nervous to meet you and Sans but were keen on the family dinner/party aspect so hopefully tomorrow will go okay
> 
> Rickon: Sans gets in today, but I'll wait until tomorrow to hang with them all so we can pile the Starks on them a little at a time
> 
> Rickon: And because I'm working late since Gen is out
> 
> Lyanna: Hope it's as chill as it can be
> 
> Lyanna: And that you don't injure yourself working such long hours. Poor Rick :)
> 
> Rickon: Last night was awesome, btw, both of you are SO damn sexy
> 
> Lyanna: Fuck yes, I quite enjoyed it as well
> 
> Shireen: And me :)
> 
> Shireen: Hope I can act like a normal human at MY family dinner tonight, wish me luck
> 
> Lyanna: You worried?
> 
> Shireen: Only that Loras will manage to get something out of me, you know how he is
> 
> Rickon: You're Shireen, you're good under pressure, you'll be fine
> 
> Rickon: Tho, I should say, if you feel the moment is right to tell them, it's fine with me
> 
> Lyanna: Yeah, me too, no pressure either way AT ALL
> 
> Rickon: I just mean, like, if it's stressful to try and keep it secret you don't have to
> 
> Rickon: But also you don't have to say shit about it
> 
> Lyanna: Seconded
> 
> Shireen: You guys are awesome, thanks
> 
> Shireen: I'll keep that in mind. We'll see, I guess?
> 
> Lyanna: Well, I'm heading back in to beat this manuscript into shape
> 
> Shireen: Take care lovelies
> 
> Rickon: Yeah, keep being sexy you two
> 
> Lyanna: Will do, you're not so bad yourselves :)

When work was done Lyanna took the bus home and decided to eat leftovers, put on a documentary, and chill with her cat. Maximum relaxation for at least _one_ evening this week was in order, and she had a feeling this was her chance. She got in a restful few hours, anyway. Bear was ecstatic: he purred his full, chest-rumbling purr while he stretched out along the side of her on the couch.

At 9:14, her phone chimed, and she yawned and paused Aemon Targaryen in the middle of an explanation of how hrakkar hunt in the Dothraki Sea. She tried to grab her phone without disturbing Bear.

Three's company (members: 3)

> Shireen: Wow, y'all, that was quite an INTENSE family dinner
> 
> Rickon: Really? What went down?
> 
> Lyanna: Do tell
> 
> Shireen: Ugh, well, first, Ren and Loras being weird and nosy, and they outed me to Uncle Robert, which is FINE because I really couldn't be bothered to tell him myself but he was Uncle Robert about it
> 
> Shireen: Which is to say, he leered and tried to talk girls with me and I ugh
> 
> Lyanna: Gross
> 
> Shireen: Seriously! You should have heard Dad grind his teeth :)
> 
> Shireen: And then I, well, I brought up Alyn and Alys
> 
> Lyanna: You did!?
> 
> Shireen: Because I just, I mean, they are OUR FAMILY and Robert's CHILDREN and all
> 
> Rickon: Well, yeah
> 
> Lyanna: Good point
> 
> Shireen: And, well, Robert got all drunkenly magnanimous and basically decided they were invited to Renly's party on Saturday, which Ren took badly
> 
> Shireen: I mean, maybe it was partly just, you know, Robert telling him what to do, but Dad and Renly have been so like uninterested in any of Robert's "illegitimate" kids and I just, well, it pisses me off
> 
> Rickon: Yeah, heard
> 
> Shireen: So I, uh, I told them off
> 
> Lyanna: Shit, you did?! You go lady, I would've liked to see that
> 
> Rickon: Wow, yeah, seriously awesome, what'd you say?
> 
> Shireen: Basically just, you know, that they are FAMILY and that whatever's weird about it is ROBERT'S fault, not theirs, and that I want to know them and that who knows what they are like but they certainly never got support from us who ARE their family before and it couldn't hurt to show just a LITTLE, and, like, they listened
> 
> Shireen: Well, Dad listened, at least
> 
> Rickon: Sweet!
> 
> Lyanna: FUCK yes
> 
> Shireen: Yeah, Dad kinda about-faced, and said I was right and that we have a duty to our family and told Renly basically not to be a dick and to invite them
> 
> Shireen: So Ren was like, yeah, fine
> 
> Shireen: Aaaaand, then I was like, so Arya and Gen are invited too right?
> 
> Rickon: OH, yeah, sweet! That's right Shireen!
> 
> Lyanna: Hahaha awesome!!!!
> 
> Shireen: So THEN I was feeling all brave and I said "can I bring a couple of people" and Loras fucking POUNCED of course
> 
> Lyanna: That's great tho
> 
> Shireen: Yeah, Ren said you can both come, I mean, I didn't give names and Loras thinks I'm trying to obfuscate by bringing more than one person and not letting on which is my date, which is hilarious, really :)
> 
> Lyanna: Hahahaha yeah
> 
> Shireen: If you want to come to my uncle's dumb party, that is :)
> 
> Rickon: No yeah, that's fucking sweet and of course I'll come
> 
> Lyanna: Yes. Wouldn't miss it :)
> 
> Lyanna: You are on FIRE and I'm here for it!
> 
> Shireen: So, then, the other weird thing was that I remembered Sansa's here, like at the last minute, and like, asked Renly if she could come too and Loras was over the moon of course, but ... well Dad was a little strange
> 
> Rickon: ?
> 
> Shireen: Not like objecting or anything, just like ... muttering and, fucking blushing, maybe? I mean I doubt anyone else noticed, but it's DAD, so I ... Could my Dad possibly have a thing for your sister, Rick?
> 
> Rickon: Well, shit! If it were anyone else it wouldn't surprise me, because Sansa is like, drop-dead gorgeous and everyone knows it, but, STANNIS? What do you think about it, Shir?
> 
> Lyanna: Whoa
> 
> Shireen: I'd say it's ... not impossible. He certainly RESPECTS her, and he has to have NOTICED that she's, as you say, gorgeous ... And also he MIGHT have a thing for redheads. It's certainly what it LOOKED like to me. But GODS I doubt he'll fucking DO anything about it if so, I don't think he knows how
> 
> Rickon: Should I like, warn Sansa?
> 
> Rickon: That didn't come out right, I mean like, your dad is NOT creepy but maybe if he's awkward she can use her immaculate manners to smooth that shit out
> 
> Rickon: Unless she wants to hit that, of course
> 
> Shireen: Gods, Rick, THAT is my DAD
> 
> Rickon: Yeah, I'm just saying, tho, she's done with her year of no men, so :)
> 
> Lyanna: Hahahahhaha, oh, gods
> 
> Shireen: Yeah, fine, I mean, don't implicate me if you can help it and I'm not 100% sure, but, you're right, it will probably be less awkward if she's forewarned
> 
> Rickon: Got it
> 
> Shireen: Okay so, dinner at Arya and Gen's tomorrow, the pub, probably, right, on Friday, and my uncle's party Saturday? Who am I even with this social life?
> 
> Lyanna: As long as I get to be with you two beauties
> 
> Rickon: Yeah, seriously, count me IN
> 
> Shireen: Can't wait, you awesome humans

— — —

By the end of the conversation Bear got tired of not having her undivided attention and went to nose around in his food bowl. Lyanna didn't feel like putting the television back on, so she lay in the quiet dark of her living room, closing her eyes and reveling in all the images and sensations that came flooding in: Shireen's long neck, her lopsided smile, her deep blue eyes, pupils blown as Lyanna kissed her; Rickon's floppy red curls and his smooth skinny chest and the way he'd _moaned;_ their hands on her skin, their warmth touching her, the _sexy_ fucking words that kept falling from their lips.

She snuck her hand down into her pants, under the little blue girl-boxers Lyra had bought her back on Bear Island, and slowly spread the wetness she found there up and down the length of her cunt. She knew she didn't have the godsdamn patience to try to make herself come this way, but it felt nice. She just lay there, touching and imagining, picturing, remembering the _feeling_ of touching them, with no goal other than to enjoy it, for a while, until she was sleepy enough that she dragged herself up and made herself go through the motions of getting ready for bed.

Rickon got in late after his double shift. He gave Lyanna a tired smile and scarfed the leftovers she offered him. She knew he was beat and she also felt almost a little . . . shy around him now, without Shireen here? _Well, that should be examined,_ she thought; _we'll have to make sure we don't get awkward when it's two of us, now, even though that's what it pretty much always was until last week._ But it could wait. Tonight, they were both tired, so she left Rick blankets and a pillow on the couch and went to bed. She fell asleep thinking of their lips, their skin, again, with her hand just tucked into her boxers, so _comfortable._

— — —


	7. RICKON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner with Arya and Gendry, redux; and finally a little smut, to be continued next chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I was writing this, I had an approximate idea of the age I *thought* the Hill twins were supposed to be (note: they were killed by Cersei in canon); and then Reddit saved me when I came across the actual quote in which they are mentioned, and realized I was off by, like, 5 years. So I was able to fix it before posting, at least :) I have a side fascination with Robert Baratheon's many bastards that I kinda indulged a bit here :)

— — —

Rickon woke up on Lyanna's couch at the ungodly hour at which he was now accustomed to getting up to get to work at Gendry's shop. Rick loved Gendry, as a might-as-well-be-goodbrother as well as as a boss, but he really _hated_ being up at the crack of dawn.

As he did every morning, he reminded himself of Shaggy and his little dream that depended on saving up some money, and how he needed to stay the course and that that was part of _why_ he'd agreed to work for Gen: because he'd be motivated (by his love of Gendry _and_ his fear of Arya) not to let him down. It worked, and he hauled himself up and started his day.

He showered, blearily hoping he wasn't waking Lyanna, ate breakfast as quietly as he could, and got himself off to work. He needed to be dependable; Gendry having new family in town was giving Rick a chance to prove that Gen could depend on him, and he wanted to do the best he could at it. But thank the _Warrior_ the shop would close early today for the holiday and he didn't have to pull another double. Or work tomorrow.

After a few hours, he had a break, and he figured it was a good time to send a text to Sansa. Given the sensitive (and bizarre) nature of Shireen's observations, he stayed the hell away from the group chat for this.

> Rickon: Uh, Sansi, I got a question for you
> 
> Sansa: Shoot
> 
> Rickon: What are your feelings about Stannis Baratheon
> 
> Sansa: What?!?
> 
> Sansa: I mean
> 
> Sansa: He's nice? I ... appreciate his presence at Stark-Baratheon functions? Especially as a tonic to Uncle Robert? He's always been nice to me, especially when all that shit went down with Joffrey. I think he's always been good with Shireen, but she'd know that better than me
> 
> Sansa: Can I ask the context for this interrogation?
> 
> Rickon: Uh, it's not meant to be an interrogation, Sans, sorry if I caught you off guard
> 
> Rickon: Yeah. Here's the context. I heard from a ... source ... that Renly is planning to invite Gen and Alys and Alyn, along with me and Lya (though we're just Shireen's plus two at the moment), and then also Arya and you to his party Saturday?
> 
> Sansa: Really. Really?!
> 
> Rickon: Well, yeah, I guess, okay, Shireen actually kinda pitched a fit about Renly and Stannis's treatment of Gen and his sibs, and Stannis decided to back her, and Renly conceded. Don't spread the story, but gods I wish I could have seen it. Shireen can seriously be magnificent when she gets angry
> 
> Sansa: Oh. Yeah, that makes more sense. Aahh gods you're so cute
> 
> Sansa: But, what does this have to do with me? Other than being invited?
> 
> Rickon: Oh, yeah, well. Again, please don't repeat this, but Shireen said ... well, she said Stannis got a little flustered when your name came up? Like maybe he blushed, even? And Shireen point blank asked if I thought maybe her dad had, like, a thing for you?
> 
> Sansa: ...
> 
> Sansa: WHAT
> 
> Sansa: RICK, please tell me this is not a joke
> 
> Rickon: This is definitely NOT a joke, Sansi, I know I am your brother too but I usually leave the pranks up to ... all the OTHER brothers we have and I would NEVER prank you in any way related to your romantic life
> 
> Sansa: Holy shit
> 
> Sansa: And of all the days ...
> 
> Rickon: Sans, do YOU have a thing for STANNIS? The resting bitch face one? Shireen's DAD? Oh my gods you do, don't you
> 
> Sansa: Um
> 
> Sansa: Please for the love of the old gods and the new don't TELL anyone
> 
> Rickon: Sansi I PROMISE, your secret is safe with me
> 
> Rickon: And whomever YOU choose to share it with
> 
> Rickon: Like maybe Stannis Baratheon? :) :)
> 
> Sansa: I, oh gods Rick
> 
> Rickon: Thing is Shireen decided it was okay for me to tell you because in the COMPLETELY LIKELY event that you DIDN'T have a thing for Stannis fucking Baratheon, we figured you'd want forewarning of his likely awkwardness
> 
> Rickon: But she also said he'd probably not ... address it directly
> 
> Rickon: Again, please DON'T repeat this, but, I don't think he's very confident romantically, I mean you know his marriage was total shit, right? Shir's mom is ... more or less a basketcase and there wasn't much of anything between them
> 
> Rickon: And I don't think he's ... dated much in the ... most of Shir's life since then
> 
> Rickon: This conversation is absolutely surreal
> 
> Sansa: Yeah, well, I've had to hear all about your TWO GIRLFRIENDS all week, so
> 
> Rickon: Good point
> 
> Sansa: Well, I can try to make things not awkward, but I'm not promising to make any moves
> 
> Sansa: It is a little on the fucking nose that this would come up the DAY after my year of no men is over, tho, huh? Honestly I probably never would have considered Stannis Baratheon before I did that
> 
> Sansa: Even tho I think I've had a crush on him, like, forever
> 
> Sansa: At least since Joffrey
> 
> Rickon: Wow, Sans
> 
> Sansa: Yeah, I just ... I know he's way older than me but ... I think I have different priorities now? Hopefully better ones? He's ... he seems really ... honorable? Good? Underneath the grumpiness anyway
> 
> Rickon: I'm really proud of you Sansi. And I'll support you whatever you decide to do
> 
> Rickon: Even if it's getting it on with my girlfriend's DAD eww
> 
> Rickon: Sorry. Being supportive :)
> 
> Sansa: I'm proud of you too Ricky. Can't wait to see you tonight and meet these girlfriends of yours
> 
> Sansa: Not that I've never met them but this is DIFFERENT
> 
> Rickon: Yeah. Thanks Sansi. It really means a lot to me, and I can't wait to see you too <3
> 
> Sansa: <3 <3 <3

Rick was, definitely, shocked at Sansa's admission, but he felt really good that she hadn't clammed up about it and had let him in on her feelings like that. Most of his nervousness about seeing her washed away. She was growing as a person; he could tell that. But he hoped it was also because maybe he was becoming someone she could really trust, too. And he _really_ wanted to be that. Now he just needed to keep his mouth shut about her fucking crushing on _Stannis_.

He got back to work and by the time his shift was over he was really ready for a shower and some downtime before the dinner tonight. He stopped by his place to grab fresh clothes and check on things. Alys and Alyn didn't seem to have trashed the place; in fact, they'd washed some dishes he'd been meaning to get to and the place seemed . . . cleaner. Huh. Considerate guests were nice. But they were out at the moment; probably Gen was showing them around. He showered, since he was alone and there was no need to waste Lyanna's water, and then grabbed what he needed and headed to Lya's.

At her place he secretly fed Bear one of the treats Lya kept for him in a kitchen drawer, as part of his campaign to get in the giant cat's good graces, made a charcoal sketch of the cat once he'd flopped down on the floor, satisfied, and then lay down on the couch. He'd meant to put on some TV, but he ended up startling out of a heavy sleep a couple hours later when Lyanna stomped in.

She laughed at his groggy confusion and left him to slowly reacquaint himself with the waking world while she showered and dressed for dinner. She met him in the kitchen when she was done, and he whistled and waggled his eyebrows at her.

She rolled her eyes, but he knew she knew she looked good; she'd put on one of her little dresses—a black one with a green border—with a thick button-up sweater and wool tights that were both bright green. He knew no one would call most things Lya wore _formal,_ but he also knew that she'd dressed up, within the scope of things Lya wore, and he felt honored, even knowing it wasn't _mostly_ to do with him. Plus she looked _good._

Rick only had his same comfy dark jeans and his favorite blue sweater, but she waggled her eyebrows right back at him and he felt . . . nice. He grinned, and just leaned down and kissed her. It was heavenly, but neither of them drew it out too long.

He knew they were both thinking of Shireen: a mix of wishing she were there and not wanting to . . . _do_ too much without her? He thought they should probably all at least talk sometime about what they expected to exist between each pair of them when the third wasn't there. Surely, Lyanna was still his girlfriend even when Shir was absent, but . . . well he wouldn't like it if Shireen felt left out by anything that happened between them . . . yeah. This relationship was going to require a lot of communication, and he found that he was kind of . . . excited about it? Like, it was a challenge and he knew it was really the _only_ way this crazy threesome could really _work_ in any long-term sense, so his attitude was basically _bring it on._ But he tabled his thoughts for now: it was time for Arya and Gendry's dinner.

— — —

The mood at Arya and Gendry's was different from their usual weekly dinner: There were half again as many people, mainly, and it was louder and more crowded and more formal because of Alyn and Alys being virtual strangers, and, of course, Nymeria had been put outside, so there was a distinct lack of large furry sloppy greedy direwolf.

Rickon hugged Sansa first; he'd already met the Hill twins and he needed to see his sister and hold her for a second and really know she was all right. Sansa smelled like home and lemons and gave him one of her dazzling-but-genuine smiles and hugged him back just as hard, and his heart settled a little.

Afterwards he tuned back in to Lyanna shaking hands with Alyn, Alys looking cool but relaxed and Alyn's gaze appraising. He knew they weren't identical, since they'd be the same sex if they were, but they looked remarkably similar, with Gen's _(Robert's)_ black hair and dark blue eyes. _Shireen's, too,_ he thought. Alyn's hair was over his ears and Alys's hung down to her neck and on both it was all loose curls, not tight like Bella's but not the straight fall of Mya's and Shireen's either.

They wore similar colors, Alyn a red hoodie with a silver lion on it and jeans and Alys red pants, a grey sweater, and pretty scarf with different hues of red. He wondered if they always dressed in concert or whether it was on purpose tonight. They'd been impeccably polite, and careful with his home, but so far he didn't have much of a read on who they _were_ , really.

He saw that Shireen was there, the length of her folded up into an armchair in her old faded green Estermont Turtles hoodie, and loped over to kiss her nose. Lya hugged her too, and despite the strangers' presence, he felt at peace being near these two women in a way he'd rarely felt, like the wild restlessness he'd _always_ felt was . . . not _gone,_ certainly, but _directed,_ maybe? Perhaps his attention, now divided among himself, his work, his art, his family, and his new pack, had enough to occupy it that he felt calmer somehow.

Shireen seemed a little anxious and he gave her hand a squeeze. Gendry was yelling something from the kitchen and Arya was handing out beers. Alys accepted a lager and then shared it with Alyn. As he moved closer to the table he saw they'd made it bigger (there was a leaf, probably) and there were eight mismatched chairs around it.

He sat between Lya and Shireen; Arya was on the end next to Lya, and Sansa was next to her on the other side. Arya and Sansa whispered together: his two _so_ different sisters, grown and comfortable in themselves, had for years now been the friends that, in their childhood, their mother had always despaired of them ever being. Alyn and Alys sat in the two seats across from Rickon and Shireen, and Gendry, bringing the last of the food, sat on the end in the open seat.

Gen had made a Dornish egg dish: three versions, with sausage and dragon peppers and onions in one, some salty fish and capers in the second, and dark-headed mushrooms, more dragon peppers, onions, and garlic in the third. When everyone had a serving, conversation haltingly resumed around mouthfuls of delicious, spicy, hearty food and swigs of beer.

Gendry asked what growing up in the Westerlands was like, and the twin scowls on the faces of the twins looked so much like Gen's regular expression that Rick almost laughed—but he suppressed it, thinking it might not go over well.

Alyn started, "Well, it . . . sucked, really." He explained that Cersei, Robert's ex-wife, had been their mom's employer, and that she'd been sacked summarily after the twins were born. "I'm not saying it's right to sleep with your boss's husband, because, it's really _not,_ and Mom is . . . well, she doesn't always make the best choices. But, well . . ." he trailed off.

Alys took up the story. "Yeah. They fired her right after she gave birth. She lost her benefits, the hospital tried to charge her the entire cost of the birth even though her insurance was _supposed_ to have paid it, and she was already a single mom of _twins,_ " her eyes were big, "and then they _blackballed_ her, and she couldn't get work anywhere. We left Casterly Rock for Lannisport, but it wasn't far enough, and Mom basically had to start over. Went back to school; now she's a nurse."

"Why didn't she move any farther away?" Shireen looked thoughtful, but he knew by the hard glitter in her eyes she'd have already strangled Cersei if she were able.

Alys scowled harder. "Support network. We'd never have made it without our two aunts and our gran. Didn't have a trust fund or nothing, you know."

Shireen flinched, but she faced the implication squarely. "Yeah," she said softly, "I get that. Uncle Robert has plenty of money, really, but he's never done much for any of his . . . his _actual_ children. Even after finding out Cersei's kids weren't his, he just . . . drinks, mostly, I guess. I know Gen's life wasn't easy either, and I guess you're mostly adults now and, y'know, have your own opinions," she carefully looked at Gendry, "on whether you'd take anything he tried to offer now, but, well, it's never been fair of him. And with Barra, it _really_ ticks me off. She's only sixteen—she's still a minor—and he doesn't even . . ." She seemed to remember herself.

"But," she started, louder, "I do have an invitation for you. I won't tell you whether you should accept it or not; it's completely up to the two of you. But our uncle Renly is having a party Saturday. And you're both invited, if you're still in town. Everyone here is invited, in fact. You should know, um, that Robert will be there. And, um, my dad, Stannis." She looked down at her plate.

Alyn's eyes were huge, and Alys looked stony. Alyn broke the silence. "Look, will you . . . tell us what they're like?"

Alys hissed. "En!"

He looked at her, but his jaw jutted too. "I know, Es. But I want to _know,_ and she can tell us. I trust her to . . . not just, lie, anyway?" They both eyed Shireen. "Then we make a decision. Together, with more information."

Alys's eyes softened a fraction. "Okay."

Shireen gulped. "Well, Robert's . . . a big drunk asshole." Gen laughed. Alyn cracked a smile. Shireen continued, "He's, uh, charming, I guess? Like, the life of the party? But he'll only remember half of what you tell him. He's always cracking dirty jokes; hells, he found out I'm bisexual yesterday and he asked if I knew any _college girls_ . . ." she trailed off in disgust, and even Alys looked sympathetic, for a second.

Arya interjected. "Yeah, he, fucking, always used to hit on me because I look like his . . . uh, _lost love,_ " she gestured with air quotes, "my fucking _dead aunt?_ Starting when I was, like, sixteen? Yeah."

Lya asked "Lyanna?" and Rick started; somehow, he'd forgotten that Lyanna had been named after that same aunt—Jon's mom—who'd been a few years older than Dacey and had charmed the Mormont matriarch. Arya nodded. Lyanna Stark had died not long after giving birth, and it sucked. Dad and Uncle Benjen had loved her fiercely and still grieved. She'd died far too young; but at least her child—Jon—hadn't been _Robert's. Not that Rhaegar was much better,_ he thought bitterly. Arya was nodding.

"Fuck." Alyn and Alys both looked disgusted.

"Yeah." Shireen continued. "Then there's Dad. Uh, Stannis, the second brother. He's, um, a . . . well, a stick in the mud, I guess," she smiled ruefully, and Sansa made a displeased noise that Rick was pretty sure no one else noticed. "He's _very_ uptight. Obsessed with duty, doesn't know the meaning of fun, resting bitch face." Alyn and Alys both laughed, startled.

"I mean," Shireen kept on, " _I_ love him. We get along, I live with him by choice, and all. He's got good qualities." Sansa hummed, very quietly. "They're just . . . hard to see at first glance. He's . . . honest, hard-working, conscientious. And," she added thoughtfully, "He, uh, thinks less of Robert than I do. Resents him, if I'm honest. For being a shit brother," almost everyone laughed at that, "and for . . . well." She glanced nervously at Rick, then at Arya and Sansa. "For choosing to treat _their_ dad as his brother instead of _him._ " Oh. Yeah. That made sense.

Arya snorted. "Yeah. I never really understood that. I mean, our dad is . . . like, a _slightly_ more sociable version of Stannis. With, like, a grim poker face instead of RBF." Arya hardened her face into a passable imitation of Dad. Sansa giggled. "Well, it's true!" Arya was laughing now too. "I never got what he saw in Robert, either." She sobered at that.

Shireen picked back up with a bright face. "And there's Renly. He's his own duck. He's pretty . . . uh, gay, uh, flaming, I guess? He's like thirteen years younger than Dad, and _really_ wants to be the 'cool uncle' but he can be kinda . . . out of touch? I mean, he and Loras _mean_ well, at least. Um, Loras is his partner. They've been together forever, and married since it was legalized. But they're . . . I mean Loras is, like, barely older than Gendry and they just . . . party a lot and Loras is pretty nosy. He's also from a big family, and . . . yeah, I guess they're both just used to being the younger ones and they don't really look outside of their own spheres too much, if that makes sense? They're nice, you'll probably like them fine," she finished, looking a little embarrassed. Sansa had rolled her eyes at the bit about Loras and was nodding.

Alys looked thoughtful, and Alyn turned serious eyes toward Shireen. Deep blue met deep blue. "Thanks. I wasn't expecting . . . so much honesty, I guess? That . . . really helps; even if we don't go," he eyed Alys, "it's good to . . . know what they're like. Our . . . family." Alys quietly nodded. Rick had the feeling they wouldn't get much out of those two until they'd had a chance to discuss what they'd learned in private, but he couldn't hold that against them.

"Yeah." Shireen was still.

"But you're staying to go drinking with us for Smith's Day tomorrow, either way, right?" Arya was cheery again. She'd clearly already won this point, because Alys and Alyn just nodded and rolled their eyes. "Because we are gonna _rage!_ We're going to the pub, I mean. Our comfortable, neighborhood pub, where we know almost everyone and Lommy and _Hot Pie_ are coming."

Shireen gasped. "Hot Pie? _Awesome._ "

Alyn and Alys both looked mystified, so Rick figured he could do the explaining, for this much less fraught topic: "Yeah, he owns the best bakery in town. And he's friends with Arya and Gen, for some reason," he grinned, "and he swears that name's on his birth certificate, but . . . I've never seen it."

"Yeah, me neither," Gendry concurred. They laughed, and Shireen explained that she'd been told Hot Pie never arrived anywhere without _treats,_ and the conversation began to flow.

Rick looked over at Sansa and quirked his eyebrow, and she blushed a little, but smiled, and he grinned. He got out his sketchpad and channeled all the energy he felt into drawing some of the faces at the table, a wistful rendering of Shaggy, and a giant turtle, just because.

Lyanna was in the middle of loudly proclaiming, ". . . yeah, thank the _gods_ for sperm banks! Every time I meet a new one of Gen's sibs I feel that way!" She waited for the quizzical looks, like she did every time she explained her origins to someone new and unsuspecting. "Mom used five different sperm donors and had five daughters, starting . . . Dacey's what, forty-three? Forty-three-odd years ago, and just . . . never needed a man at all!" She cackled. "I mean, she did have a good support network, too," she added seriously, "I hear you on that one. And a tight community. It was great, really. I'm just saying," the twinkle returned to her eye, "I'm happy to have been spared all _that_ noise!" And she rolled her eyes toward Shireen, who laughed. Everyone at the table was smiling at Lya; she had that effect. Rick was grinning shamelessly. He wanted to kiss her.

He _could_ kiss her. So he did, nuzzling her ear and kissing her cheek and then her lips, quickly but softly. And then for good measure, because he could and he just _loved_ being here with them, he turned to his left and kissed Shir, too. Gently, on the lips and just the edge of where her scars met her clean cheek. She smiled widely at him, and winked at Lya around him.

The westerlanders looked just a tiny bit scandalized, but they were impeccably polite and said nothing. Sansa smiled at Rick and his women gently, and Rick felt _awesome._ Arya, of course, rolled her eyes.

When the food was finished they ate the lemon cakes Sansa had brought, _of course,_ which were delicious, _of course_ , and there were cyvasse matches and some serious discussion of sports and Rick escaped the melee for a bit to go hang with Nymeria, who was not happy to be missing all the fun inside. She launched herself out of her heated doghouse _(oh, poor Nym)_ and barreled into Rick, knocking him over.

Then he registered a second, smaller copy of Nymeria standing politely to the side as though waiting her turn, and he yelled with surprise, " _Lady!_ " and gave her belly rubs that she accepted with grace and only a _little_ leg-shaking. "Oh, _Lady_ , girl, I didn't know you were coming! Who's a good girl? Who is? You're _such_ a good girl!"

The presence of Sansa's wolf along with Arya's brought the absence of Shaggy into sharper focus than usual and Rick had a moment when he could feel the weight of it like a hammer blow.

He turned and, unsurprised, saw that Shireen and Lyanna had noticed his exit and followed him. They both had compassion on their faces and he could tell they knew what was on his mind, so he just whispered, "I miss Shaggy," and sagged onto the steps. They came, those lovely beautiful women, and touched his hair and his shoulders, and leaned on him sitting there, and petted the two direwolves—who ate up their attention—and he felt like he could bear it again. It wouldn't be forever, he knew. He _would_ make a home where he could bring Shaggy one day soon.

— — —

When they were getting ready to leave, Lyanna looked at Shireen cautiously, and said, "Shir, you're welcome to stay at mine again if you like? No work tomorrow, at least . . ."

Shireen's eyes lit up. "Oh! Yeah, I would really like that, actually." She smiled like the morning sun. "Let me just text Dad."

They said good-byes to Arya and Gen and, and Rick walked Alyn and Alys back to his place so that he could pack stuff for the night to take to Lya's. The twin Hills talked quietly to each other some of the way, but about halfway there, their attention returned to Rickon and Alyn got an interested glint in his eye.

"So, uh, they're _both_ your girlfriends? "He asked, looking a little embarrassed. Alys rolled her eyes, but she looked at Rickon a little sharply, too.

"Oh, uh, yeah? I mean, uh, they are also each other's girlfriends, so. Um. It's not . . . it's hopefully somewhat balanced, I mean, I guess?" Rick tried.

"Oh. Oh!" Alyn tried to hide his surprise. "I didn't get that part, sorry! I guess that's . . . pretty cool?" Alys rolled her eyes again, but he thought she looked a tad more approving.

"Oh, yeah," Rick didn't try to keep the grin from splitting his face. "It's fucking great! I mean," he added carefully, "it's going to require a lot of work, I know that, and it still might not work out but . . . I'm really hoping it does. They are amazing and I never dreamed I'd get to have something like this." They nodded, looking thoughtful _(Alyn)_ and guarded _(Alys)._

"So, uh, do either of you have anyone . . . uh, like partners, or whatever?" Rick asked.

"Um, well, I just broke up with my girlfriend. Like, a few weeks ago," Alys said glumly. "She was . . . I really thought it would work, you know? She's . . . yeah. She's great. But, uh, she's moving to Braavos for school and I just. I told her I wouldn't, um, go with her. I guess it's what she needs but, y'know. It's a bummer. But I couldn't really be that far away from . . . from Alyn," she looked a little embarrassed, but Alyn met her eye steadily, "Or, y'know, our mom." She sighed. It was the longest string of words Rick thought she'd spoken all night.

He noticed how Alyn was quiet, watching her and letting her tell it. He was suddenly really glad for these two, that in the shit luck of having Robert Baratheon for a father, they'd been born together and had each other, and evidently a family network on their mother's side, to lean on.

"That, uh, sucks, I'm really sorry to hear it," he told Alys. He was quiet, then. He didn't know her well enough to offer any advice, and platitudes were _so_ not his style.

Alyn spoke. "I, uh, haven't really dated in a while. Just . . . waiting for the right person, y'know?"

Rick nodded. "I can respect that."

He thought that, though they seemed to be really close with each other, these two were almost as reserved as Gendry was. He wondered if they'd tolerate his talking a little more freely.

He tried, "Y'know, meeting you two, I mean, I know you haven't had it easy. Like, I really get that. But I know Gen pretty well now, and, uh, it makes me wish he'd had . . . like a sibling or whatever. When he was little, and . . . he lost his mom pretty young, y'know?"

They nodded. Rick figured it would have come up when they were getting to know Gendry.

"And, like, you should have seen him when we first got to know him! He was like . . . _really_ surly," Rickon laughed. "He and Arya are really great for each other, and I think the rest of us are winning him over, but, sometimes, I just feel like he keeps a lot inside, y'know?"

Alyn and Alys both looked at him with softer eyes. "Yeah," Alys said quietly. "I kinda wish . . . I mean we haven't really met the rest of them yet, but . . . I mean what would it have been like if all us . . . _by-blows_ . . . had known each other all this time?"

"Well," said Alyn, "It would certainly be less awkward now. But there might have been some _mom_ issues."

Rickon snorted, and then they were all laughing, walking up to his apartment.

— — —

It was late when he got to Lyanna's, and she and Shireen had laid out the sleeping mats in front of the fireplace again. Lya had built a nice crackly fire, and Bear was curled on the end of Lya's mat, as close to the fire as he could get. The women made space for Rick where they were sitting, leaning on each other and gazing at the fire. Lya's sweater and tights were piled on the chair with Shireen's hoodie, and they looked _so beautiful, gods,_ Lya in her little dress and Shireen with her arms bare in a pale grey sleeveless blouse and jeans; and he pulled off his sweater and curled around them without a thought. They were quiet for a while, and he basked in the warmth and comfort and the presence of Lyanna and Shireen.

After a while, Shireen turned to look at Rickon and her eyes glinted in the firelight. She leaned over and kissed him, her hand on his face, and fire tickled up his spine. He could see her pull Lyanna into the kiss, and their mouths all tangled together, a little awkwardly, but hungry for each other. And Shireen's hand stroked down his neck, to the collar of his shirt, and fisted there, _pulling_ him, urgent. Lyanna's hand was in his hair and then down his back to his waist. Their bodies were pressed together, kneeling, _fire_ all down both sides of him where they touched. Lyanna kissed his neck, trailing her mouth down the left side of it, and, because the gods were _so good,_ Shireen did the same on the right side, her mouth biting and sucking at him, down to the collar of his shirt, and then she mumbled something he didn't hear.

"What, love?" he asked, and Lyanna's eyes glittered hard, waiting.

"I, uh, can we be wearing fewer clothes?" Shireen clarified. "I mean, is that okay?"

Lya nodded and grinned, and Rickon hastened to agree, grinning widely, and then, _gods,_ Shireen's hand was under his shirt, pushing up, and Lyanna pulled from the other side, and he was warm enough from the _fire_ pulsing in his veins as well as the one crackling in the hearth that he didn't miss it when it was gone. Shir's eyes, lighting on his chest, grew darker and Lya's hands landed on him, trailing up and down lightly, and then, _fuck,_ Shir's hands were there too and he was overwhelmed with the sensation for a moment.

Shireen let go of him and looked at Lyanna and hesitantly began to unbutton the top of Lya's pretty little dress. He gazed at Lya's face, watching intently as her eyes widened and her breath sharpened. When she had unworked four buttons, Shireen spoke.

"Can I . . . can I push this off your shoulders, love?" She asked softly. Lya nodded, looking tongue-tied, and Shir so carefully, so gently pushed the dress away by its straps and then, gods, Lyanna's beautiful neck and chest and her _tits_ in that little black bra and he must have gasped because their faces turned to him, and he slowly touched Lya's belly, looking to her, and seeing her nodding he ran his fingers gently up her ribs and touched the lacy black band of the pretty bra and Shir's hands were just behind his, her fingers slender and elegant and spreading out on Lya's skin. Lya's hand was still resting on Rick's chest and she grasped at him, kneading like a cat.

Shireen's eyes sparkled and she reached for her blouse, but Lya caught her hand, and quietly asked, "Can we?" And she nodded, sparkling more. Rickon followed Lyanna's lead, unbuttoning the lower buttons while Lya worked at the ones at the top, slowly exposing more and more of her skin, Shireen shivering with pleasure under their hands. Lyanna's hands touched his, and Shireen shrugged the open shirt off her shoulders and shyly glanced up at them, the soft green bra she wore in that style with no wire, just two triangles of fabric overlapping, her nipples hard beneath it, her long torso warm under their hands, tracing up and down.

Shireen shivered again, her eyes rolling a little, her breaths quick and sharp, and he _loved_ seeing her like this, _gods,_ did she _know?_

"Shireen, you are so godsdamned beautiful," he breathed. Lya murmured in agreement. Shireen blushed prettily across three-quarters of her face.

He put his lips to her skin, looking into her eyes, ready to stop, and they widened but she nodded and she grabbed his hair a little wildly, keeping him close to her.

Lyanna was still touching Shir, stroking down her side as Rick kissed her ribs, and Lya leaned her mouth to his neck and kissed him there, sending fire down to his cock as she moved up to under his ear. Shireen stroked Lya's back, her fingers pressing into Lya's skin, and Rick's hand joined hers there.

Their bodies arched toward each other, seeking _more,_ and Rickon gasped as Lyanna's skin touched his, her belly warm against her lower back, her fucking _breast_ inside that lacy bra up higher, and he leaned against Shir's legs and she pushed up, at the same time, into his kisses, and _gods, gods . . ._

Lyanna was stroking Shir's hair with one hand while she kissed Rick's neck. Shireen was touching Lya's skin: her shoulders, her neck, trailing down to the top of her breast on the left side. Rick's hand reached back to Lya's leg, his attention barely able to contain the sensations of her tight muscle there and Shireen's soft skin on his lips.

Then Lya _bucked_ into him, her hips crushing into his, which was _fuck, gods,_ she bit him a little at the top of his shoulder and it must have been something Shireen did but he couldn't see what. He gasped, breaking contact with Shireen's skin for a second, and she moved, wriggling down under him, her legs wrapping about his and Lya's hips, her mouth meeting his in a crush and licking into him, tasting him, and then moving to the side where Lyanna was up on her knees, her hair brushing his neck as she leaned in to kiss Shireen.

Her breasts were touching his chest, and Lya's were touching his shoulders, and everywhere was _fire_ and he was drowning and his cock was so hard and it was, now, pushing against the front of his jeans where _Shireen_ was pushing herself against him and _fuck_ this was amazing and it was _so much._ He breathed, for a moment.

Bear, motivated by perversity perhaps, took that moment to climb over Rick's calf, and, apparently, _onto_ Lya, who jerked, twisted, and fell to the side, laughing helplessly; Rickon leaned back, pulling up Shir, the two of them smiling at the loud snorts coming from Lya, and they started to giggle, and soon they were all crying from laughter, the tears streaming down their cheeks. Shireen gasped out, "See, a turtle would _never_ do _that!_ "

Bear indignantly walked away and climbed his tree to stare balefully at them once more and wash his face with his paw.

Shireen recovered first, stilled, and smiled at them with wide eyes. "Shit, you two, that was . . . this is _so godsdamn much_ but I _want you_ so badly and _gods._ " She said it baldly, her want showing in her face, and his cock was still so hard for these lovely magic fucking _beings_ and Lyanna's laughter died, replaced by glittery eyes and a half-open mouth and she looked like fire.

Rick cleared his throat. "Me too. I mean, I _want_ to, _gods._ I want to see you both fucking come apart and I want to make you come and I want to see you make each other come and I also, also see how it's so godsdamn much and I can barely contain all this fucking _fire_ I feel like is in my veins and this is. Ugh. So _fucking hot._ " He raised his hands helplessly, his breathing hard. Shireen's eyes were huge, her lips just barely parted, and she _licked_ _them_ and _fuck._

Lya growled a little. "Yes. _Yes._ I want, I want you, both, too, so much, you gorgeous motherfucking lovely hot people, ugh, _gods, fuck_. But look, Shir: _you_ set the pace; I can't—I'm shit at it. Rick's good at following us on that I think, " she quirked her eyebrow at him and he nodded, listening intently, "so, uh, Shir maybe, uh, can you tell us what you'd, uh, like, right now? Whatever you like, we can stop, or we can . . ."

"Oh. Oh, I, gods. I want, yes, can we . . . I should have, I should have thought about how hard it is to _talk_ in this state, when I said I needed _slow_ and made myself official, ugh, _guardian of the pace,_ or whatever!" She laughed. Then she gulped, and looked at them, at Rick and then Lya. "I . . . um. Can we take off our damn pants? Um, _please?_ "

Rickon gasped: that damn _please_ was so low and sweet and it went straight to his cock and her could see her knowing what it had done. _Fuck._ Lya groaned and kissed Shireen sloppily and grabbed at the dress that was folded down at her hips, but Rick grabbed her hand, trying to hold on to himself just a little bit longer.

"Can we, can we do it like before?" he asked, and Shir caught his meaning and nodded, putting her hands at Lyanna's hips, and Lya's eyes widened as she caught it too. And Rickon waited until Shireen found the buttons and worked a couple more loose, and then he pulled lightly at the hem of Lya's dress and it fell down to where her knees were on the floor. He stood, and Shireen followed, and together they pulled Lya up and held her hands as she stepped out and _fucking hells, all the gods,_ was she beautiful. Her fucking skin glowing in the light from the lamp and the fire. Her black lace panties leaving the bottom halves of the globes of her gorgeous, muscular ass bare, her breasts also contained in black lace, her legs full of muscle and lean pretty shape. Her toes. Fuck. His fingers _itched_ to draw her, except that then his hands would be too busy to do everything _else_ they wanted to do.

She smiled her feral smile, and looked with fire in her eyes at Shireen; touched her ribs, dragged her fingers down Shir's chest to the waist of her jeans, to the button there, and looked up at Shir's face while she carefully undid it. She pulled at the zipper slowly, and he saw Shireen's eyes roll up just a little, and then he put his hand there too and helped Lyanna pull the jeans down over Shir's narrow hips and push them down her legs to the floor.

Shir stepped out of them and kicked them aside and her cheeks were pink but she smiled and Rick looked up from where he'd knelt to pull her pants off and _fuck_ her legs were so _long_ and where they met was a low-slung triangle of soft green with a little fucking _bow_ right in the middle and gods there was just _miles_ of her skin. She was _perfect,_ long-limbed and pale and perfect and _how_ was he surrounded by such fucking _beauty,_ and then: they were looking at him.

He took the hands stretched out to him and stood, and then, _fuck, fuck, gods, fuck,_ two hands, different shapes, on his skin like _fire, fire_ pouring up and down his spine and they gently unbuttoned his jeans and then Lya's fingers were on the zipper, the _zipper_ behind which was his _cock,_ and he made some kind of strangled sound and she looked like she'd fucking _eat_ him and then Shireen was behind him, her hands wrapped around to his pockets and pulling down, his pants falling to the floor, his cock springing up, pulling his thin grey boxers up into that shape. That unmistakable shape of gods his cock was _so hard_ for them and they were fucking staring at the shape his cock made and gods, he could feel it leaking just a little just from their eyes on it, _gods, fuck._

Shireen moved behind him again and pushed her body against his back, her hands at his hips again and Lya—Lya stepped up toward him, and almost fucking _hesitantly_ — _Lya_ —pushed herself into the front of him, kissing his chest, her head barely reaching his collarbone, his _cock_ poking her right in the belly, _gods_ and he held her, his arms wrapped around her.

Shireen kissed his shoulders, his back, traced her fingers near his spine and around to his chest, and then Lya moved to the side, her arm reaching out to touch Shireen and Shir moved the other way, snaking around him, her body still touching his, reaching for Lya from the other side, until they were both against his chest, Shireen's head resting on his shoulder, Lya's ear touching his left nipple, his arms slung around them both, running his fingers up their lovely skin, up their spines.

Shireen, in a voice husky like he'd never heard it before, suggested, "Hey, let's . . . get down in front of the fire?" and then they, somewhat awkwardly, tenderly, careful for each other, sank to their knees on the mat in the middle that they now thought of as Lyanna's.

Rick sat, his legs stretching toward the fire, and drank in the sight of his fucking _girlfriends_ in their pretty underthings, Lya on her hands and knees _crawling,_ fucking coming toward him with her _tits_ hanging down, little handfuls in that black lace, and her ass moving in a way that made him frantic, and Shireen folding herself alongside him, her legs stretching out for miles, one on top of the other, propped up on her hand and her gaze traveling back and forth between him and Lyanna, eyes dark and hungry.

Lya reached them and she fucking _climbed onto_ his legs and sat on his thighs with her breasts just there, so near his face that he really wanted to . . . _gods,_ he leaned forward and kissed her collarbone, then lower, dragging his lips across her skin down, down to the top of the black lace; and he was glad he'd very considerately chosen the one farther from Shir because suddenly her face was there, her eyes looking into his, close enough to kiss if her lips, gods, her _lips,_ weren't on Lya. She was _licking_ Lya's skin right in the same place at her other breast, and Lyanna hissed and arched her back in the _sexiest_ way, and her hand ran up his spine, encouraging, so he kissed her more.

Shir's lips kissed again, and then they moved down over the lace to Lya's nipple, and _sucked_ it right through the fabric and Lya _moaned_ in that voice she had that fucking purred out of her and he felt that was a noise he'd like to hear again, so he moved his mouth downwards too, taking her other nipple between his lips, through the lace, and sucking, touching it with his tongue, and Lyanna was writhing, gasping, and _gods, gods, Mother, Maiden, Crone,_ this was the fucking sexiest thing he'd ever done.

When Shireen turned her head to him there, still touching Lya's sacred skin with the scarred part of her beautiful face, he instinctively met her, and she kissed him, leaning against Lyanna's bosom. Lya was already touching them both, running her fingers up Rickon's shoulder to his neck and into his hair, and then she sank down and turned toward Shireen, kissing her shoulder, her neck, her chest.

Shireen broke from Rick's lips to gasp at Lyanna's attention and he started to trail down the other side of her, passing his lips down her chest and around the side of her breast under the soft green cloth, teasing just a little to see what she'd do. She arched her chest, reaching with her body for his mouth, and for Lya's, which was slowly descending still, and they kissed her around her breasts until she was panting and then, glancing at each other, put their mouths on the hard pebbles of Shireen's nipples sticking out through the thin cotton and sucked them too.

Shir's groan was in her deepest voice and she gasped out " _Gods, oh, gods,_ " as they kissed her and _fuck_ , she stroked her hand down Rick's chest, down his belly to the fucking hairs there that trailed down under his boxers, toward his _cock_ , and he gasped and moaned and his hips bucked up just a little toward her, toward them, and _fucking gods_ he might fucking just come like this, _shit._

— — —


	8. SHIREEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is THICK with smut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first really smutty chapter, and I'm so happy that's it's from Shireen's perspective. But you'll get to see it from the POVs of the other two eventually too. :)

— — —

Shireen had given up completely on the concept of _slow_. There was no way to _handle_ this. It was and simply would be overwhelming; but it was also the most _fucking amazing_ experience she had ever allowed herself to have.

She'd slept with people before. Well, she'd slept with _men_ before. But there was something here that was different, something beyond the obvious fucking differences of there being _two_ fucking people touching her and one of them being _female._

When she'd been with Trystane for all of two moons, in college, she'd always felt he appreciated his own body more than hers; like part of what he was getting off on was her relative gratitude that someone like _him_ would sleep with her and it had irked her. She'd been really proud of herself for telling him off, and dumping him, eventually; she imagined it had stung him, to be dumped by someone like _her._

Even with sweet Ned Dayne, it had just been so . . . sweet. Lacking in passion, like they both were just . . . comfortable enough to fall into bed together. It had been _nice_ , but one kiss into whatever this was with Lyanna and Rick and she'd been convinced that _comfortable_ by itself would never be enough again. There was just _so_ much _more_ to be had.

Omer Blackberry had been gruff and big and hadn't given a damn about her scars, and at first that had been enough; but seven hells, he'd treated her like a young girl and she hadn't been able to see a future with someone who acted like her _father._ In bed, he'd been gentle . . . too gentle to kindle the kind of fire she burned with now.

She'd even kissed Devan once, in the slight haze of intense late-night conversation and high emotions; they'd both agreed it had been _nice_ ; but it was clear it really wasn't what their friendship was about, and they'd left it there, as a memory.

This, though: this was _everything._ She wondered: if it had been only Rickon, or only Lyanna, whether all this intensity would have been there. She imagined that, _yes,_ it would have been intense. There was certainly a layer of _more_ added by the presence of one more person than expected that was intense in and of itself. But she felt like the real kernel of the passion she felt with their hands and _mouths_ on her was the actual living chemistry among the actual amazing people in this room; that either Rick or Lyanna alone would still have surpassed her paltry experience with other lovers in a heartbeat.

And she'd have been naked with them by now, she knew, were it either Rickon _or_ Lyanna, rather than both. What had been holding her back was the overwhelming feeling of _so much_ that came when two sets of hands were on her and two bodies demanding her attention. But she wanted them. She _wanted_ them, and _slow_ just wasn't cutting it.

At present Lyanna's hands and mouth were wandering down from Shireen's still-clothed breast to her bare ribs and belly; Rick's mouth was still _sucking_ and _licking_ her nipple through the bra she _really_ wished she wasn't wearing; and her hands, gods, _how_ did one keep track of all this fucking sensation: where were her hands? Yes: one trailed down Lya's outer curves, feeling the texture of her _fucking_ lace boyshorts that left the bottom half of her gorgeous ass bare. And the other was petting Rickon's lower belly, the hair there that trailed down under the waist of his boxers, the boxers under which his _cock_ was obviously straining upwards, poking into the other side of Lyanna's ass where she was _sitting_ in Rick's _lap._

 _And my cunt, yeah_ that _is on fire._ Shireen couldn't bear the thought of stopping this now, could think of nothing but their skin and their hands and her cunt and Rick's cock and, _gods, Lyanna's_ cunt. Lyanna's _cunt._ _What is it like? Is she wet for us? Will she let me see, let me touch her? Do I dare to move this into the territory where I can find out?_

She took a deep breath and tried to think clearly enough to form words. It took her a long, languid moment during which Rick's mouth moved downwards, and now she was leaning backward and Lya's and Rick's mouths were dangerously low, kissing down to the low rise of her little green undies. She opened her mouth and gasps and moans came out. Action was needed. She growled a little, and Rick and Lya both looked up at her, waiting to see whether she would speak. She tried, tried again, and finally growled it out.

"I'm, I, I can't move _slow_ anymore, this is just . . . I'm on fire. _Lyanna, Rick,_ I want to be naked, I want _you_ to be naked, I need to see, I need you, I _want_ you, is that . . . is that okay? Are we okay with that?"

Rickon choked a little, opened his mouth, thought better of trying to speak, nodded, and then managed to get out, " _Gods,_ yes," and Lyanna's eyes were dark, glittery, wide, and a wicked smile stole over her face as she nodded and spoke after Rick: "Oh, gods, Shireen, _yes;_ I want you too, I want this, I want Rick, gods, _fuck._ "

Every place they touched burned with more fire after these words, but Shireen fought for the presence of mind to grit out just a few more: "We . . . should agree on . . . I, uh, I have an IUD, and I'm, oh, I'm clean and I think . . ."

Fortunately they caught her meaning and the torture of _thinking clearly_ and _articulating_ became theirs instead.

"Oh! Oh, yeah, oh. I, um, I'm also, yeah, clean bill of health," Lya valiantly supplied. "And. Birth control. Yes." She looked exhausted and impatient at the same time.

Rick's eyes were wide. "Oh, gods. I'm clean, yeah, I got, uh, I went for a checkup in Winterfell before I left and I haven't . . . gods, talking is so . . . I haven't _been_ with anyone in Storm's End, uh, until now. Are we . . . do you . . . I mean. I think, I have some condoms if you'd rather keep them out to be sure . . . or?"

And Lyanna laughed, that gorgeous low rumble, and barked out "Fuck no, if you're both clean then, gods, no, I _hate_ condoms . . ." and though she blushed, she smiled and looked carefully at Shireen.

Oh, talking again. She tried to keep it simple. "Yes. No. No condoms is fine. We are all good, and they, I agree, they aren't very . . . nice." Simple, sure, yeah.

The three of them looked at each other. Shireen didn't know what her own face showed, exactly: relief, anticipation, pure lust? Lyanna's pupils were wide and she had returned to the completely feral expression she'd had after Shireen had dispensed forever with _slow._ Rickon, after the resounding rejection of the need for condoms, looked like he was . . . well, probably trying quite hard not to come inside the only scrap of clothing left on his body. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing, and when he opened them the lust was plain on his face but he looked less panicked about it.

And then they touched her again.

Rickon's big hands slid slowly, gently up Shireen's chest and pushed her bralette up; Lyanna helped pull it over her head. Shireen reached to unhook Lyanna's bra and Rickon pulled the straps down her shoulders and nudged it off from the front.

She—fuck, _gods,_ now she was _staring_ at Lyanna's fantastic little breasts; _fuck,_ she didn't even have _time_ to think about the _two_ sets of eyes appraising her _own_ breasts, she was just dumbstruck in the face of these perfect tits right _here_ in her face: the little perfect half-curves underneath; the concave slope above, the dusky pink fucking _beautiful_ nipples pointing up at an angle that was probably just under 80°, and she could have just . . . stared at them, all day, if the _sensations_ hadn't brought her back.

The sensations of two very different hands on her ribs, gliding up toward her own bare breasts, forcing her to look up and into the eyes of Lya and Rick who were both looking at _her_ tits in _just_ the way she'd been enraptured by Lyanna's one moment before; and seeing their faces, Shireen had to admit that these two people _wanted_ her, _loved_ what they saw; there was no mistaking it and it hit her in the guts but it felt _good._

She fucking grinned at them: what else could she do? And they _touched_ her, oh, gods, their fingers found her nipples and stroked them lightly, Lyanna squeezing just a little and Rick moving his thumb back and forth across the tip. She groaned and hissed out "Gently," just in case, because this sensation was already almost too much. But then Rick's _mouth_ was there and as much as she wanted to scream at him that Lya's tits were _right_ there and _perfect_ and deserved this lovely attention too, she _couldn't_ tell him to stop. She just _couldn't_ with his warm wet tongue brushing her nipple, making it harder than she'd really thought nipples could get.

So she did what she _could_ get herself to do: ran her fingers back across the curve of Lya's ass up over her panties and along her side, across her ribs until they finally reached that impossibly beautiful curve; and slowly she trailed them up that curve, around, closer, to the little hard point of that perfect pink nipple, and Lya gasped, mirroring Shireen's arching posture and turning her head to look at Shireen.

Rick broke his suckle at her gasp, and turned his head to Lya, _finally_ seeing those perfect breasts and grinning, moving his mouth there, enthusiastically running his tongue along the path Shireen's fingers had just taken, licking up the curve to her nipple and suckling it just as he had been doing to Shireen's. Lya groaned and Shireen palmed her other breast and— _gods,_ _soft_ —leaned back in and put her mouth there, because she _could_ and it looked so nice and the feel of Lyanna's hard little perfect nipple in her mouth was almost as lovely as the moan Lya gave while she ran her hands through Shireen's hair and _pulled_ so gently.

Shireen's mouth came free and she became determined again. She nudged Rick's hip with her own. He looked up and saw the purpose in Shireen's hands, now trailing down the center of Lyanna's belly, low, below her navel, grasping the lace as she came to it.

Shireen caught Lya's eyes; Lyanna nodded, her body already pink with that incredible flush they'd seen when she'd _gods, gotten herself off thinking of us_ ; only now they could see how it spread to her breasts, almost all the way down to those dainty nipples; and then Rick's long-fingered hands were there too and _then they pulled._ Slowly, together, they peeled the lacy things down and then pushed them down Lya's legs and _gods,_ the soft brown hair there, where Lya's thighs met, looked too good to touch but Shireen _wanted_ to and she kept her eyes on Lyanna's face and put her hand just above, where the dip was, above the bone, and pulled so slowly downward until her fingers were tangled in a cloud of fine curly brown hair so soft. She couldn't help it; she _pulled,_ too, just the littlest bit.

Lya moaned her low purr, softly, and her eyes blazed into Shireen's, and _fuck, gods,_ was she really here, in this room, _touching_ with her own hand Lya's pretty thatch of hair and Rick's fingers which were suddenly intertwined with hers there, his hand cupped over the hidden mound of Lya's cunt? _She was, gods, yes, she was._

Shireen looked in Rickon's eyes, and found a spark of _something_ there that answered her gaze, and she put her palm up questioningly to Lya's chest, glancing up into Lya's dark glittering eyes and quirking her eyebrow, increasing the pressure of her palm, until Lya groaned and let herself be pushed/pulled backward by Shireen's and Rickon's strong hands and laid down on the cozy mat and they stroked their hands down her body and when they reached her soft brown hair again she _opened_ to them, her knees raised a little and falling to the sides and Shireen's fingers slid down over that hair to the softest folds beneath and, _yes, fuck, so_ wet _for us, Lya's_ so _wet._

The pretty pink lips there opened up and Shireen could see the holy fucking precious gift that was Lya's beautiful cunt: the lips dark with arousal, the deeper part between them darker, the hood pulled back above and, _old gods and new,_ her _fucking_ perfect beautiful pink clit under it.

Rick's fingers trailed after hers, his breath coming heavy near her ear, and she smiled at him (when she tore her eyes from Lya's perfect cunt for just one second), and then, messily, they _touched,_ trying, together, to find what would make Lyanna moan _just like that,_ and each time Shir's fingers dipped down between Lya's folds and back up to circle her clit, not quite touching, they heard it; and she moaned deep also when Rick slid his finger inside her, pad up, and . . . Shireen guessed he was curling it, because she couldn't see that much motion from the outside, but Lya's pitch rose, and her hips rocked with the rhythm of Shireen's fingers, circling and dipping and circling closer, daring to touch Lya's clit—guessing from her bucking and how she looked _close_ that that was what she needed—directly rolling over it, watching for any sign that it was too much.

Instead, Lya's cries came louder, higher, and Shireen repeated her motion, down and back up and over it again, until Lyanna was wild, losing control of her motion, keening, her hands grasping at blankets and her hips pushing, pushing up into their hands and Shir could feel the pulse of her, clenching around Rick's finger, pushing up into Shireen's hand, and she yelled, " _Yes, Gods,_ you, oh, _you, oh_ that's fucking _perfect, oh, gods!_ " And the feeling of this incredible woman, fierce Lyanna, her best friend, coming apart, _coming_ between her hand and that of her _other_ best friend was _fucking heady_ and sweet.

They petted Lya as she came down, her swollen cunt and her wet thighs and her muscular legs, and Rick grinned and _licked_ his glistening finger, rolling his eyes back at the taste, and Lya's hands fluttered and found them and stroked them, aimlessly, in gratitude. She mumbled sweet things until slowly her eyes came back to focus, and when they did they glittered again in the firelight.

A smile spread on Lyanna's face and she nudged Rick and then _oh, shit,_ oh _gods_ their hands were on Shireen again, nudging her gently until she lay down, trembling, on the mat, next to where Lya had just been, but now Lya was leaning up on one arm, and her other was tracing the edge of those low green cotton undies that Shireen was absolutely certain were completely soaked through by now. Rick's face leaning over her grinned his goofy sexy grin, and together they pulled gently against the edge, waiting in case Shireen should stop them, and when she pushed _down_ on their hands instead, they pulled the last scrap of cloth between Shireen and her lovers _away_ and the air hit her and _gods_ they were _looking_ at her _cunt._

She pictured it as she looked at their faces, the shapes in her little hand mirror when, every so often, she'd felt the need to _see_ it: the inky black hair with its gentle curl, the sharp dip, the dusky lips and the pale hood of her clit, the dark almost purple bud of it, the irregular shape opening into her depths, and _gods,_ they _looked_ at her with big, adoring eyes for her own sweet familiar cunt and gods, but it felt _good_ to see them looking.

And then, _gods,_ their fingers followed their eyes, and oh, _oh,_ Shireen thought: she'd had fingers in her cunt before, but _oh_ how can one hand each from two people be _so_ different from one person's two hands, and oh, _gods,_ fuck, it took a second of fumbling for Lyanna and Rickon to sort out who was doing what but then she felt fingers, light, smaller ones, tracing her lips, stuttering up and down them, settling on that up-and-down motion as Shireen moaned for it. The delicious sensation was interrupted momentarily by Rickon's long finger pushing, sliding at her entrance, and _gods_ she had a second to wonder if it was the _same_ finger she'd just watched him bury in Lyanna and then—she was suddenly aware of Rick's and Lya's fingers at once and she was overwhelmed by sensation.

Rick's long finger hooked, just as she'd _thought_ he'd done to Lya before, and it felt _heavenly_ , and in a moment he found that fucking _spot_ and it felt like even _more_ and she couldn't keep still or quiet at _all_ and her back arched, and then, _and then_ Lya's fingers switched their rhythm. She kept the sweep down and up Shireen's lips but she swept up around the whole hood of her clit too and it felt _so_ _good_ that she was bucking and gasping immediately.

Lya drew figure eights, sweeping down to her lips and up again, and (well, once, she got a little too close to her clit and Shireen hissed, but thankfully she heard it and went back to circling around it and) fuck, gods, _fuck,_ fuck, this was, _gods,_ she was crying it aloud: " _Fuck,_ gods, fuck, _Lya, Rick, gods,_ holy gods, _yes, YES_!" coming on their hands, under their touch, as they chased the rhythm on her bucking body and helped her keep coming until she spasmed again and was done.

She let the world reel by for a moment. Her eyes refocused and Lyanna looked proud of . . . herself? Of Shireen? Of all of them? And Rick grinned with delight and unbridled lust and fuck, she was so fucking _happy._

Shireen winked at Rick and sat up, leaned into the huddle, kissed Lyanna's mouth, gripping her, pulling her close, and then Rickon, scratching his scalp with her fingers in his soft hair, and she whispered to them, "Gods, that was _lovely, thank you,_ " and her voice came out low and husky but she wanted them to _know._

And then, naturally, they turned to Rickon. In a minute, she and Lyanna both had their hands on him and he was thrumming with desire, and she _knew,_ she could see in his eyes that they'd touch him and he'd come; it was too much for him now.

He looked a little panicked, so she whispered to him, so he would know it was all right: "Rick, we're going to make you come," and he started to try to stutter something out but she soothed him: "you're going to come, Rick, and I want you to come so fast, because we've been doing this, turning you on, turning each other on, all night, and I _want_ that, Rick, I just want to see you come. Later you can use this cock to _do_ things to us. Right now I just want to see _you_ come undone for _us._ "

Lyanna shivered a little, her eyes alight, and she nodded, her fingers trailing down to Rickon's waist, Shireen's following, and she said it aloud, gave him permission, so that it would be both of them: "Yes, Rick—come for us, just come, nothing else yet."

And his eyes rolled back as he relaxed out of his worries and into a deep shudder that took him as he rolled his hips up for them and they pulled his boxers down and off and Shireen stared at his lovely long cock, which she'd wanted to see all these moons just _almost, almost_ as much as she'd wanted to see Lyanna's perfect cunt.

It was a little darker than the rest of his pale skin and it curved just slightly up and to the right. It sprang almost straight upward against that line of auburn hairs on his belly, glistening at the tip where it leaked just a little, and Rickon groaned again, his hot-chocolate groan, but louder, longer, more impossibly _sexy_ and Lyanna and Shireen reached for his beautiful cock and the feeling, the _feeling_ of his soft silky smooth surface, of Lyanna's smaller hand meeting hers around it, was just heavenly and made her cunt clench just a little again.

Rick's hips bucked at the first touch and then they each wrapped a hand around him and Shireen (the pacemaker) pushed her hand down the length of him till her fingers brushed his balls, and Lyanna followed, her hand tight above Shireen's; then she pulled back up, dragging Lya's hand ahead of her, until Lya's pretty fingers enveloped the weeping head of his cock, and Lya stilled Shireen with a touch of her other hand; took that wetness, swirled her hand around to pick it up, and slid down under Shireen's hand to spread it. When she pulled back up, she let go of Shireen. So Shir pushed her hand back down again, Lya following, both sliding nicely now in the slick.

Rickon's face contorted, and they could see he was transported, out of his mind, with want and need and _pleasure,_ and again Shireen reveled in the _rush_ of being able to affect someone this fucking much and take part in something that each of them clearly enjoyed on a fucking cosmic level.

They slid their hands up and down once, twice, three times, four times. He'd been rigid, pushing his hips up into their hands, eyes rolled back, since they had put their hands on him; now, on the fifth stroke, he stuttered, "Oh, _gods,_ oh _Lya, Shireen,_ _oh!_ " and Shireen could feel his balls tighten, and once more, and that was all he could get out before his body jerked forward into their hands and his wet shining come shot up onto his own chest in one, two, three jets and he _bellowed_ incomprehensible noise, once, long and loud, and then he was still.

They were all still, then, for a little while; they draped themselves over each other so that they all touched, and just _breathed_ and felt the passion still simmering beneath their skins, for a few more moments.

And then Lyanna stood, walking to the bathroom, and it took Shireen's breath away, just this simple moment in which she was privy to the incredible sight of Lyanna fucking Mormont, naked, walking away. It was almost the same, a moment later, when she returned, and Shireen was in fucking _awe,_ lying warm against Rick's side.

She'd brought warm wet washcloths and they cleaned Rickon's pearly come off his chest, quietly, together, and cleaned themselves up a little too, and then Lyanna poked at the fire for a bit (and Shireen thought perhaps the sight of naked Lyanna crouched in front of the fire _might_ even eclipse naked Lyanna walking) and when she was done she settled against Shireen's chest, where she was leaning against Rick, and _gods,_ what a feeling, to _hold_ Lyanna with her whole body, skin pressed against skin, and as if that wasn't enough, to feel Rick along the whole outside of her, to curl up into him. A girl could die happy like this, she thought.

They lay there and gazed at the fire, and spoke in mumbles and whispers of their contentment and it was heaven.

After a while, Shireen felt her skin buzzing again, the liquid heat in her veins rising. She kept her peace and relished the slow building of desire singing through her body, but she guessed that it wasn't just her who felt it when Lyanna's hand began to draw circles over her own where it was thrown across Lya's belly; when Rickon's low murmur grew quiet and his hands traced Shireen's shoulder and sifted through Lyanna's soft hair; when Lya's breath hitched and her comfortable lean became a stretch, a squirm, a slow slide of limb across limb, and she felt Lya's skin warm as her leg ran along Shireen's and her whole back arched a little into Shireen's chest; when she could _feel_ the slow change where Rick's cock lay trapped behind the small of her back, as it grew into the shape she'd seen before when they'd finally rid him of the last article of clothing among them.

This was different from before; there wasn't the fiery need to strip them down, to _see_ every part of them; there was instead a slow building of awareness of the pure _sexiness_ of their collected skin all pressed together, of their disheveled hair and already-bitten lips. There was a recognition of how much she _wanted_ these two incredible humans, and a sense of comfort in being sure, now, completely _sure_ of how much they wanted her, gods knew why, how, but they did, they fucking _did,_ and she felt so _sexy—_ herself, Shireen, just knowing that—that she was the one to reach for Lya's face, pull her cheek so gently until her whole body _turned_ against Shireen ( _gods,_ all that _skin_ ) and press her lips to Lyanna's, slowly, _tasting_ her, savoring the sensation of kissing this woman who was _hers to kiss._

It was Shireen's hand that pulled at Rickon's, though she gasped with regret at breaking the contact between the whole back of her and the whole front of him; but regret was soon forgotten in the new configuration they slid into: his chest against the side of her, Lyanna's side tucked across her chest, her kiss with Lyanna breaking as her lovers' mouths reached for each other, and her mouth free, then, to rain kisses upon them, kisses to show her happiness and gratitude and ecstasy and ebullience and _fucking_ fizzy ridiculous glee that she, _Shireen,_ and no other, should be here in this room right now, experiencing this fucking _bliss_ that was just being in this much contact with the skin of two beings so divine.

Her kisses landed on their necks, collarbones, cheeks, temples, earlobes (a hiss from Lyanna, a groan from Rickon): on the patch of skin just next to Lya's glittering eye, on Rick's jaw with fine stubble on it. Their bodies, then, began to _move,_ reveling in the slide of skin and _rubbing_ against one another just to feel it more.

She felt Lyanna's breasts sliding against her chest, her nipples hardening again; Rickon's big hand running up her leg, her hip, the side of her ribs, the outside of her breast, catching there, turning, pushing in along her skin to envelop her breast in its warmth and, _oh, yes,_ the gentle brush of his thumb across her nipple. She arched her back and _purred._

And then they turned to her, their mouths letting go, their eyes full of heat, and kissed her on either side of her face, Rick on the smooth side, Lya, the side with the scars; and that sensation, of such tenderness all over her face, moved her near to tears again, and she smiled so widely for them.

And then, _oh_ , then they kept on kissing her, down the sides of her neck, across her collarbone and chest, down. Rick's tongue _licked_ up the side of her right breast just as Lyanna's kiss landed feather-light on her left nipple. Then her nipples were _both_ in their mouths, and the _warmth_ and the deep thrum of it blew her conscious thoughts into a scatter of _oh, gods_ and pure sex.

For a long moment she reveled in the sensation of lightning in her veins shooting sparks from her nipples straight down to her cunt. Her reaction was visceral; she moaned lowly, arching more, pushing her breasts toward the lips that pleasured them so, and Lyanna purred low in her throat, the vibration adding something wild to the sensation pulsing in Shireen's nipple, and then abandoned it, moving down, kissing and licking Shireen's skin down her abdomen, inside her hip at that sensitive dimple, and, _oh,_ inward. Towards her cunt, which was pulsing now with anticipation.

The fire sparked and the quiet cold outside brushed against her consciousness for seconds before she returned to the cocoon that her lovers' touches had wrapped her in, her mind far away from anything that wasn't Lyanna's mouth, Rickon's mouth, Rickon's hands.

Rickon lifted his head away from Shireen's nipple long enough to see Lyanna's direction, and then returned, pulling another moan from Shireen at his gentle teasing, and stroking up and down her long body with his hands, soothing; meanwhile, Lya's mouth continued.

She licked, gods, into the crease where Shireen's leg became abdomen, inward, touching the black hair, and then, _gods, then_ her mouth was there, on Shireen's cunt. She pulled back for just a second, and it seemed to Shireen that she simply _looked,_ admiring the other's cunt for the second time that night, and then. Then, she _licked._

 _Licked_ a broad stripe upward, her tongue flattened, broad enough to touch both lips and pull wetness upward to the hood of her clit; _licked_ downward, back across her lips and to her entrance, where Shireen felt all the heat that had been building in her pool like flame licking upward, scorching everything it touched. She set her tongue into a slow, smooth rhythm, licking up and down, crossing over Shireen's clit without separating it from its surroundings, causing _so much_ sensation but somehow, not _quite_ too much, and it took no time for Shireen to pant, to buck, to _whine_ with need.

Rick's mouth sucked at her nipple; his hand stroked her side, stroked Lya's face where they both watched her working at the juncture of Shireen's legs. She glanced at his face, briefly: he looked tender, and full of desire, his pupils fully blown.

Lyanna was so godsdamned wonderful that she knew, from Shireen's whine and her motion, that she just wanted, needed, a little _more_. And being wonderful, she slipped two small fingers along the groove of Shireen's cunt in place of her tongue: one stroke, two strokes, and then, when they were slick with her juices, _pushed_ them slowly into the warmth and tight fire of Shireen's cunt, returning her tongue to its rhythm along her lips and clit.

Her fingers took a moment to find a rhythm with her mouth: at first they pumped without specific purpose, but quickly she hooked them, and found the right place, chasing the sounds Shireen made, and then _fuck, gods,_ everything became brighter and roaring and Shireen gasped as her hands moved to Lyanna's hair, to Rick's arms, and her hands grasped, trying to be gentle but possibly not completely succeeding, and her toes curled, and her hips _pushed_ and gods, her cunt clenched and she yelled as she came, "Gods, yes, Lya, _yes,_ _yes, please!_ "

And she rode the wave, rolling into Lya gently, pleasure coursing through her, down the lengths of her veins and out into her hands, her feet, up her spine. It finally ebbed, and she breathed slower, and Lyanna's tongue and fingers finally let go.

When she could think again, she was possessed of both the desire to see Lyanna come like that, to _make_ her come like that with her own tongue, to _taste_ it; and, the fear of being quite terrible at such an act, given her relative _(complete)_ inexperience with it. She didn't get far in terms of internal struggle, though, because Rickon rose up on his elbows and fixed them both with a longing, serious gaze.

When he spoke, it came out in a torrent: "You are so beautiful and I could watch that a thousand times and I want to fuck you so bad and _gods,_ may I? I'm fucking _longing_ to feel your two beautiful cunts and I . . . _gods,_ " he looked almost forlorn, "I wish I could be inside you both at the same time," he gasped out, and Shireen and Lya looked at each other with something that was mirth and tenderness and lust and anticipation and bliss all rolled into one pulsing _want._

Shireen's mind caught up with her, and she worked to speak. "You should fuck Lyanna first. With your cock. I . . . I need a minute," she reeled, "and I . . . uh, I mean, I want . . . to watch. To see." She smiled, her own version of Lya's feral smile, and she felt that it fit her face just fine.

Lyanna's eyes darkened, the pupils wide enough that they looked more black than brown, and swallowed, nodded, turned her head toward Rick, who breathed slowly, closing his eyes and opening them, reaching out his hands, slowly, touching Lyanna, touching Shireen.

Shireen propped herself up on her elbow, and beckoned to Lyanna, patting the bed right beside her. She wanted to see, _really see,_ from a front-row seat that would seem completely _obscene_ if she didn't feel she was really a part of the act, rather than a spectator. Lyanna wriggled up and lay down beside her, and Rick turned his body, kneeling between Lyanna's spreading legs, still touching Shireen as if to ground himself so he wouldn't float away.

Shireen stroked her hand down Lya's belly, and Rickon followed with his other hand. She looked at Lyanna's face, felt the trembling in her body, and pushed her hand lower, lower, softly brushing the thatch of brown hair, and then, slowly, dipping into the wetness there underneath Lya's clit, down between her lips, down. Rick's hand followed her every move, letting Shireen start this act between her two lovers, letting her be a part of it this way, and she reveled in Lya's trembling, in her soft noises.

Rickon's fingers and Shireen's fingers trailed up and down for a long moment more. Then Shireen sat up to free her other arm, leaning close to the two of them, and reached her other hand out for Rickon's cock. He gasped, and it _jumped_ in her fingers before she could get a good grip on it, but she turned her grasp into a slide and worked up, and back down, and he groaned long and loud and his cock wept just a tiny bit and she smiled.

She waited until Rick leaned over Lya, and pushed his cock right up against her, to move her own hands out of the way: first leaving Lyanna's cunt bare to his approach, and then, _gods,_ she couldn't help using her hand around his cock to guide it up and down the slick length of Lya, just once, twice, three times and Lyanna was hissing in pleasure, four times and she stuttered with it. Rickon's eyes were huge, and Shireen felt a little part of her mind observe that, _fuck,_ she was _about to make Lyanna fucking come using Rick's cock to rub her clit_ , _for the fucking gods' sake,_ and then, five times, and she did. Lya moaned loud and long and her hips jerked up, her arms grasping tight around Rickon's back, wailing, "Yesyesyes, _Shireen!_ "

Finally, Shireen let go, and Lya, still pushing her hips up in spasms, pushed her hand down over her own cunt and _guided_ Rickon's cock into her, slowly and then with a satisfying rush as it slipped into place through the slick wetness there. Both of them groaned; Lya was still pulsing and Shireen wondered what that felt like to Rickon, how it would _feel_ to have _Lya_ pulsing around him; and then she settled back onto her elbow, stroking the hand that wasn't beneath her along the lengths of them, gently, encouraging, and she murmured to them sweet things, encouragements, as they began to move.

Watching them was . . . gods, there was no other experience she'd ever had to which _this_ could be compared. Watching her two best friends kiss, a week ago, had been confirmation that she felt a part of their kiss, that it turned her on to see because she hadn't felt _outside;_ this was all that and the pure fucking pornographic reality of two people fucking inches from her body. The pure _river_ of lust burning through her spine down to her cunt which was clenching already _just from watching_ and gods be good were they fucking beautiful.

Their bodies moved together, Rick pushing into Lya, her legs wrapping around his ass, her body pushing up into him, up, angling her body so he would hit just the right spot, and he planted his feet and knees to give him the leverage to push just a little harder, a little harder with each thrust, his motions smooth. The timbre of their sounds hinted that this wouldn't go on too long; Rick was overstimulated, as it seemed was his fate when surrounded by the two of them, and Lya was driving hard toward another orgasm that Shireen could practically _feel_ building in her.

Shireen looked, for a second, with a critical eye, at the angle at which their bodies met, and made a decision. She positioned her elbow so her angle was lower, and then reached her left hand gently between their bodies, low and near to where Rickon's cock joined them. Without being able to see what she was doing, she worried it wouldn't be good; but she remembered that Lya's clit wasn't as averse to direct stimulation as her own was, and hoped that would help.

Her fingers reached their destination and she tried to use the rhythm of their slapping bodies, growing more intense now, to keep her hand rolling back and forth, pushing slightly down from above so that the hood of Lya's clit rolled over it and back, over it and back.

It was gratifying to hear Lya's voice change; she'd already been close and the added stimulation did what Shireen had hoped it would and pushed her over the edge. Immediately she howled, bucking and gasping and letting go of Rick to grab with her hands, fisting the sheets on one side and wrapping around Shireen's shoulder on the other, gripping tight. Her orgasm rode long and loud, and somewhere in it Shireen saw Rickon's face contort, felt him tense and stutter, and then that beautiful bellow ripped from his throat, like the call of the endangered aurochs she'd heard once on one of Aemon Targaryen's shows. She touched him while he came, her hand just resting on his side; she wanted to _feel_ it, the moment his muscles tensed all together; the moment they all relaxed.

Gods, they were beautiful. Even the graceless flop of Rick down, trying not to crush Lya and rolling halfway into Shireen; he was a beautiful boneless version of himself, and Lyanna's loose posture, stretching out, draping over the bed and her leg slung over Shireen: gods, there was nothing better she'd ever seen in her godsdamned _life_ than this.

Shireen thought she'd never be able to settle, imagining all the things they could still _do_ to each other, her cunt sated but her mind still ringing with want, her skin still aching with each touch recorded in it; but it was very late: when she looked at the clock on the leftmost bookshelf, she knew the sun would rise before she even had time to fall asleep.

So she hauled herself to her feet, barely noticing that she was still naked, to take a turn fetching wet washcloths (warm: they'd been so nice when Lya had brought them warm) and the looks of gratitude she was met with were well worth the ache of having had to move away from them for a moment. They cleaned themselves, yawning, and looked at each other ruefully in the first gray of coming dawn, and sleepily agreed that they had all the time in the world, and they could sleep, and still enjoy each other more tomorrow, on Smith's Day.

Remembering, Shireen stoked the fire and added a log, to keep them warm until the sun could do so. Then she unceremoniously _shoved_ the two mats on the outside in toward the middle one, making sure they were not going to slide back and leave anyone on the cold floor.

They nestled beneath their blankets on the mats in front of the fire, and Shireen found herself in the middle, content as a cat, with Rickon's warm length stretched around and behind her, and Lyanna curled into her, and _gods_. She wanted, though she couldn't imagine saying so just yet, to sleep like this _every night._

— — —

They slept late. The sun was slanting into the windows from low enough when Shireen finally opened her eyes that she wondered if it were time to meet at the pub already; Lyanna was still curled in a ball in Shireen's arms, her face mashed into the pillow and her knees curled up, and she could feel Rickon against her back and his arm curled around _both_ of them, holding tight.

She yawned and stretched just a little, trying not to break contact or jostle either of them, but the situation was untenable: she needed to pee. Finally she had to dislodge Rick, who grumbled a little but unlocked his arm, and then push Lya gently far enough to wriggle out from between them. Rick's arm went back around Lyanna and they snuggled into each other, but both wore slight creases in their sleeping foreheads and Shireen was secretly glad she could tell they missed her there, even asleep.

She used the bathroom and stumbled toward the kitchen, petting Bear good morning when he came to investigate; then she rummaged in the kitchen for ingredients after deciding that pancakes were definitely called for. She turned on the coffee machine; she knew Lya would thank her for it.

She was just flipping her first cake (not the best, but her technique always improved with a few more) when Lya stumbled into the kitchen, staring confusedly at Shir as though no one had ever made breakfast in her kitchen before. She grabbed herself a mug and filled it with coffee, gratefully muttering about "fucking consideration." Then she seemed to recognize the intrusion as pancakes and she brightened and came over to quickly kiss Shireen's shoulder, leaning against her for a sweet moment.

"You need any help there love?" Lyanna mumbled in a sleep-heavy voice.

"No—I'm okay. By the way, I know," Shireen said quickly, "that _that_ pancake looks pretty bad, but I promise I get better at this once I make a few," and grinned.

Lyanna looked offended that Shireen should apologize for cooking her breakfast, but she only muttered, "Going to shower, then. Be out in a minute," and retreated.

Shireen had a stack of decent-looking pancakes (she'd eaten the first few, to cover up her failures) steaming on a plate, plus syrup and butter, on the table by the time Lya reemerged. Rick's voice growled out from in front of the long-dead fire, "Hey, do I smell food?"

Shireen and Lyanna smiled at each other and laughed at him, and Lya stomped over to invite him to Shireen's breakfast. After they'd gorged on pancakes and fruit, Shireen took a shower and threw on the clothes she'd packed. Her belly was full of butterflies again and scenes from the late hours of the night kept replaying in her mind, each one sending a tingle up her spine, a rush of heat down into her core, or fire slipping along in her veins.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, Rickon stumbled to his feet from the couch and grabbed his bag. He passed her on his way into the bathroom, touching her waist, kissing her shoulder gently, and she felt as though waves of heat were being ignited in her skin from his proximity and his touch.

Rickon and Lyanna had folded the blankets and rolled up the mats, so she helped Lya stash them away in the closet as Lyanna laughed and mumbled about _not_ telling her sisters what had been done on these mats when they came to stay.

Then Lyanna flopped on the couch, and so Shireen sat down next to her and Lya snuggled her small frame up next to Shireen's larger one, and the same warmth washed over her and pooled within her body, in all the sensitive places that could still feel Lya's hands, Rick's mouth, _Lyanna's_ mouth, from last night.

She draped her arm about Lya's shoulders, relishing the sweet feeling of holding her alongside the raging inferno of want that her thoughts had kindled.

She sighed, though. "It's almost three."

Lya's eyes sparkled with mirth and sympathy. "Fuck, yeah, gotta meet up at the pub."

"No time for more of . . . all that loveliness, then." Shireen simply couldn't keep herself from sighing again. Lya rumbled her low laugh.

"Oh, Shireen, love, there will be plenty of _all that loveliness_ in your future, never you fear," Lyanna purred into her ear, close enough to feel her breath. Then she sighed, too. "But yeah, first the pub."

When Rickon emerged from his shower, he threw his bag back behind the couch where he'd been stashing it and leaned over, throwing his hands around the both of them.

They turned and sighed at him. "The pub," they said in unison.

— — —


	9. LYANNA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smith's Day at the pub

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's so short; we'll get down to some more hefty ones shortly

Lyanna was on a fucking high of sexual release, confidence, and pure fucking . . . _happiness,_ she supposed. Last night had been the highlight of her fucking _year,_ and she had a feeling it would be followed up in short order with more pure wonder and brilliance and _Shireen coming under her tongue, Rick coming_ inside _her, fuck!_ But first, she needed to get her head out of the fucking orgasm clouds and act like a regular human at the pub for Smith's Day.

She pulled her favorite long black wool coat and her fuzzy blue scarf over her trademark tights-shorts-boots combo and her dark blue sweater with the sleeves long enough to pull over her hands if they were cold. She was looking forward to the pub, she _was_ ; she was a social creature and she knew the crowd would be just her favorite mix of weirdos and straightforward, down-to-earth humans and she would feel good with them. She hoped Alys and Alyn would feel comfortable and enjoy themselves too. She just . . . well, it was hard for anything to live up to sex with _these two,_ she guessed.

She smiled at them, _her lovers_ in her apartment, putting on their coats and getting ready for the few blocks' walk over to the pub where Arya, Gendry, Alys, Alyn and Sansa were already ensconced, and wondering, via text, where the hells they were.

Shireen had such color in her cheeks and looked so chipper that she thought someone was bound to notice and inquire after the cause, and Lyanna smirked to herself imagining Arya's or Sansa's face if she were to give an honest answer to _that._ She was all in greys today, light and dark shades, setting off the startlingly deep blue of her eyes. _Gods,_ Lya thought, she's heavenly and I've seen, I've _tasted_ her godsdamned fucking beautiful _cunt!_

Rick loped after them out the door and slung a green scarf about his neck; Lya had given him that, and it melted her heart to see him wear it. He wore dark jeans, as he did near every day unless he was at the gym, and a black sweater with the Night's Watch logo that must have been a present from his brother _(cousin)_ Jon.

They couldn't keep from grinning like fools at each other in the brisk cold air and sunshine on their way down Lya's street and over the few blocks to the Brotherhood without Banners Pub and Grill.

When they pushed inside, trading cold sunshine for dim warmth, they stood blinking until they could see well enough to find Arya waving madly from two big tables pushed together near the back wall. Gendry, Alyn, and Alys sat with their matching raven heads together, nursing beers and low conversation. Sansa waved with Arya, her gaze landing softly on Rickon. Lyanna knew he was happy his elder sister was here, and she was happy for it too, for him.

The owner was behind the bar, that grizzly old fucker with the eyepatch who didn't intimidate Lyanna in the slightest, and she offered to get beers for the three of them and sent Shireen and Rick on to greet their families. When she stomped up to the bar, Beric's face lit in a grin and he saluted.

"The champion returns, eh?"

"Beric, that was _once_. I am not participating in drinking contests on a regular basis—it'd wreak havoc on my health!" she protested.

He rolled his eyes but took her order and poured her three lovely dark beers with foamy heads, and she stomped (carefully) back to the table with them.

As she was inserting herself in the chair obviously meant for her between Shireen and Rickon, a lanky blond man with unusual green tattoos all over his forearms yelled from the entrance and swaggered over, throwing himself in one of the two empty chairs next to Arya (directly across from Lya) and greeting Gendry with a friendly nod. Arya, ever dramatic, stood to announce to the table at large that he was their old friend Lommy, and then launched into an interrogation into Lommy's latest pursuits.

Rick was deep in conference with Sansa on her right, so she settled for listening to the huddle Shireen had joined with her cousins to the left, half-heartedly learning bits of Lommy's life story with her other ear.

Alys was speaking, and from the tone of it Lyanna guessed they were catching Shireen up on what they'd already discussed with Gendry.

"Yeah, so, it should be, well. We'll go, and Gen and Arya say they'll come, but we're driving separately to sort of . . . keep an escape route open, y'know? In case it gets . . . weird, or uncomfortable, or whatever. But now that we feel like we know Gen and Arya a bit, and hopefully you as well," Alys looked a little uncomfortable saying that, but Alyn nodded at her encouragingly, "well, I mean, it feels a little safer to go and feel it out. To meet them. To meet _him._ "

Shireen looked pleased indeed, and she responded carefully. "I'm very happy that you'll come. I'll let Renly know. I can't promise Robert will behave—"

"Can anyone? Ever?" Gendry interjected, smirking.

"—or, really, Dad or Renly or Loras, either, but it _is_ a first step and I promise to pay attention and do what I can to call them out if they don't," she finished firmly. Alys's gaze was still distrustful, but she looked grateful nonetheless. Alyn beamed, though Lyanna doubted all his doubts were erased either—he looked like he'd had more beer than either Alys or Gendry had.

Shireen leaned her head on Lya's shoulder while she texted her uncle, and Rick's arm reached around her shoulders comfortably, his hand on Shir's head, and once again she was fucking _shocked_ in some corner of her self-aware mind that she was so godsdamned _comfortable_ and at ease in their presence.

Conversation continued, someone put another beer in front of her when she'd drained the first one, and the time slipped by in a happy kaleidoscope of conversation, warm bodies to lean against, and shouts and exclamations from Arya's corner.

At some point her phone pinged, and she saw yet another text from Dacey asking whether she was really all right. She typed an exasperated "Dacey. Please. I am TELLING you that things are GREAT. Pls stop freaking out" and pushed send. Despite her gruffness, Dacey worried incessantly, and she probably wouldn't actually calm down until two moons from now when she was here and could see with her own eyes that Lya was happy and that this _situation_ was a positive one. If she didn't convince herself somehow that it wasn't. Lyanna sighed, then realized she hadn't even considered the possibility that things wouldn't be great among the three of them in two moons' time, and smiled.

Sometime an hour or two in, a lanky fellow with thick eyebrows and a mop of light brown hair hailed Gendry and snagged the remaining empty chair, between Lommy and Sansa. Arya looked annoyed and interrupted herself in the middle of a long tale she was spinning to Alyn, Alys, and Lommy to throw "Hey, fuck off, Anguy!" in his direction. He smiled calmly as though she'd wished him a good evening and waggled his eyebrows at Sansa, speaking to her in a low voice.

"Hello, lovely! Time these clowns brought some new faces in here, you new in town?" Rick looked annoyed too, by now, but held his tongue. Lyanna knew the look on Sansa's face; she had some idea of Sansa's history and why Rickon and Arya might be protective, but she'd bet good money on Sansa having no need for anyone's help just now, so she stayed quiet too.

Anguy kept up his interested questions, ignoring both the round of pointed looks from other people at the table and the frankly bored one on Sansa's face and becoming more and more obvious in his attempts to draw Sansa into one-on-one conversation and sweep her up with his questionable charm.

He did look alarmed for a second when Sansa revealed herself to be Arya's sister, but he forged on. Finally, after Sansa deflected an invitation to leave the table and join his with the declaration that she was here to celebrate with her family, he asked what, besides Smith's Day, was being celebrated. When she replied that she had spent a year sworn off of dating and that it had just come to its conclusion, his eyes gleamed.

"Well, how lucky that you are now free to date again; I'd say our meeting was highly fortuitous, then, wouldn't you?" he asked confidently. Rick and Arya tensed, Arya looking murderous and ready to step in but for Gendry's hand on her arm, and Rick looking equally murderous but clearly waiting for Sansa to deal with him as she pleased _before_ he murdered anyone. Lyanna, for her part, sat back to enjoy what she was fairly sure was coming.

"How exactly would you say it was fortuitous?" Sansa asked, smiling demurely.

"Well, it's lucky you met me: I can show you a better time than I'm sure you've had in much longer than a year. You're so lovely, surely you'd like to have a man to hold tonight, now that you can again?" he ventured.

Sansa's smile grew predatory. "Oh, on the contrary, Anguy. No thank you. I do have some intention to put my year of practice to good use and _not_ simply throw myself at the first man I see," she countered.

"Oh, come off it, look at you! Just sitting here all pretty with that hair and those eyes and those _legs_ ; you need a nice slow fuck, someone to treat you right, make you come all night, don't you love?" Anguy seemed to have mistaken the glittering malice in Sansa's eyes for lust (either that or his pride made him double down on his absurd confidence), and Lyanna feared for his safety a little in the company she was in.

Arya's face as Sansa opened her mouth again was set: Lya could see she was convinced Sansa was just going to _continue_ being _polite_ and that she'd need to step in (and possibly break a nose or a kneecap) if they ever wanted Anguy to quit hijacking their conversation; but Rick's face was alight with anticipation, and Lyanna could see he had the right of it and waited for what Sansa would say.

Her lovely blue eyes, so like Rick's, wide and deep, became stormy. "Anguy, I have clearly expressed that I do not want to go hang out at your table and I do _not_ want to go home with you," she began in a clear, carrying voice. "The only way in which _my_ celebration is relevant to _your_ life is that _what_ we are celebrating thankfully gave me plenty of much-needed practice telling men like you to FUCK OFF!"

And she stood, face stony, pointing away from their table, waiting. Arya's face transformed to a wolfish grin, and as Anguy stammered, probably realized his imminent danger should he not listen, and _finally_ backed away from their table to go and join his rowdy friends (who were, at the moment, laughing at him) on the other side of the bar, Arya slowly began to clap, joined after a moment by the rest of the table. Sansa, a red blush high on her cheeks, smiled and took a mock bow before returning to her seat and daintily sipping her beer. Her face was flushed but she truly looked pleased with the approval. Rick looked like he'd burst with pride.

And it turned out the lout had been run off not a moment too soon, because no sooner had the conversation at the table stuttered back to life than Arya interrupted it once again, yelling, _"Hot Pie!"_ at the top of her lungs and leaping up to hug a portly, curly-headed man around Gendry's age who approached with a stack of boxes that smelled frankly _heavenly_. He tried to return Arya's hug while squeaking "Watch the pies, Arry!" and was greeted happily by the rest of the table, especially when it turned out the heavenly-smelling pies had been brought for _them._ He was ushered into the now-empty-again seat, and beamed around the table at his old friends and the new ones he'd just firmly made.

From there, conversation flowed relatively smoothly. Gendry was downright talkative—enough beers and camaraderie evidently loosening him up—and he carried on conversation for the benefit of his siblings, prodded by Arya into explaining his history as a part-time bartender here at the Brotherhood without Banners, before he'd gotten the funds together to open his shop, and thus his long-time friendships with Beric and Thoros, the owners, and with some of the veteran bartenders, such as Lem and Willow.

Then Arya explained her job teaching self-defense, weight training, fitness, and boxing at the gym to a frankly fascinated audience, and Rickon bragged with glee about her ability to take down people twice her size without breaking a sweat. Lommy launched into a story of how he, Arya, and Hot Pie had almost been mugged once ("man, they would have been disappointed, too, if they _had_ managed to mug us") and the way Arya had snapped into martial arts mode and neatly incapacitated the attackers without causing permanent injury. "Man, you shoulda seen the looks on their faces," he drawled, grinning. "At me and Hot Pie just standing there unconcerned and _this_ tiny one kicking their fucking asses!" and he roared with laughter.

Later, Gendry was trying drunkenly to describe each of the siblings that he'd met so far, to encouragement from Alyn, Alys, Shireen, and Arya, and with the accompaniment of numerous passings-around of his phone and Arya's with pictures of the people in question. His impression of Mya's glare (which was, of course, just basically his own glare) sent Shireen into peals of laughter, and surprisingly, Alys and Alyn both burst out laughing as well, Alys gasping that he looked _exactly_ like Alyn, and Alyn feigning surprise and practically shouting "I thought he looked just like _you!_ " back at her, but they all agreed it was completely accurate once the relevant photo of Mya had been found.

Then he launched into stories about Edric Storm and the escapades he kept Gendry up with in his weekly texts: _that_ brother had been raised with plenty of money and privilege (though none of it due to Robert) and was currently on a year-long backpacking trip across Essos.

There was a cheer from Alyn, Alys, Shireen, and in camaraderie, Lommy and Hot Pie, when Gendry received a text back from Mhaegen, the mother of their youngest sibling, Barra, saying that she and Barra would be available on Sunday for lunch with Alyn and Alys, along with Gendry and Arya, and were looking forward to meeting the twins.

By the time everyone was tired and ready to head to their various current places of residence, they were all quite drunk and full of greasy bar food and pie, and the atmosphere was content. Lyanna realized that she had been comfortably leaning on, snuggling into, kissing, and otherwise being affectionate with her two lovers for the entirety of the night, and both that no one had particularly remarked on it (though Arya had probably filled in both Lommy and Hot Pie, judging by the loud whispers she'd exchanged with each of them after they'd arrived), which was gratifying, and that she herself had felt completely natural the whole time, which was even more wonderful.

After saying their goodbyes at the bar, the three of them walked together back toward Lya's place, where it had been agreed they would stay again tonight, Shireen being reluctant to leave their presence and Rickon's apartment still being occupied by guests. Shireen had drunkenly proclaimed that Stannis most likely had guessed that she was "seeing someone" and that she certainly wouldn't deny it if asked.

Lyanna knew that Shireen still harbored fears about trying to explain their developing relationship to her very straight-laced father, but she privately thought that it might come up sooner than Shireen seemed to think, given their intentions to attend Renly's party the next day—however, she also thought that Shireen could hold her own, even against the formidable Stannis Baratheon, and, from Shir's stories, that Stannis's relationship to his only child was precious enough to him that he'd likely overcome whatever hangups he had about her romantic choices, given a bit of time.

On the way she fielded yet another text from Dacey, trying to balance her desire to put her sister at ease with her need to get her to _butt out_ of Lyanna's affairs. She settled on "Dacey, I'm telling you that we have been talking it through step by step. I don't know what will happen but right now it feels balanced and careful. I'm NOT being reckless with myself, or them either, here. I know them and I TRUST them, Dace. Now, please, LET IT BE."

When they arrived at Lya's, Bear was put out to have been left alone, and required reassurance, which he received three times over; after which his ego became inflated and he was somewhat insufferable. And then the three of them ate late-night snacks, drank water by the gallon in an effort to stave off hangovers, and carried on conversing until they were yawning too much to keep speaking. The air was charged with _want_ , but _gods,_ they were tired and _drunk_ still and, well.

She asked then, a little hesitantly, "Hey, um, d'you think," they looked at her with sleepy contented eyes, "Um, would you like to, uh, share my bed?" She looked at her hands. "I mean, um, to _sleep,_ at least? I think we're all, um, pretty drunk and tired, so, um . . ." Their smiles were wide, and sleepy, and a little rueful.

"Yes, Lyanna, that sounds lovely," Shireen breathed.

"Absolutely," Rickon grinned.

Lyanna thought again of the peculiar _peace_ she'd felt all night with these two by her side, and grinned despite herself at the ridiculous idea that something this new (was it really less than two weeks since she'd first spoken to Rickon about it and begun this?) could feel this solid and real. And she'd have them _in her bed,_ at least.

And thus it was decided, so they prepared for bed, brushing their teeth together and changing their clothes as if this were their everyday reality and not a thing so new it ought to feel as shaky as a colt's first steps. And she discovered that Shireen owned another tiny camisole like the one she'd been wearing the day they were caught in the rain, and little cotton shorts, that she wore to Lya's bed, and that Rickon slept in sweatpants and no shirt (unsurprising). She put on her own oversized t-shirt with the bear and led them into her bedroom, with the tall windows, where all the books she loved the most surrounded her bed like a cave made of spells, of stories, with her big comfy bed with mossy green sheets, a down comforter, and a big black fuzzy blanket that felt like a bear hug to be under. She turned the covers down and invited them in: then she snuggled between them, and _gods_ was that comfortable, and fell asleep.

— — —


	10. RICKON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sunny afternoon and some unexpected calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut here, but I promise more is coming.

— — —

Rick woke with light streaming from an angle _and_ direction that were unfamiliar, and in the fog of sleep he wondered where he was. Then he registered the warm bodies up against his: the smaller one snuggled up against his left side—Lya, his sleepy mind provided—and the larger one on the other side of Lya, whose arm was flung over her to reach him, whose feet met his in the area beyond where Lya's reached—Shireen.

Lya's room. Lya's _bed._ Surrounded by bookshelves and sunlight streaming through the tall windows, the top halves curtainless, bright and warm.

Also, it was late. Almost certainly afternoon, again. Memory of the last two weeks returned, and then of last night—the lively evening at the pub, the unfortunate drunkenness that had pushed sex off the table for the night, the sweet conversation, the cozy bedtime ritual that had felt so _normal_ for something so new among them. Shireen in her delicate little undershirt and shorts, grumbling _good night._ Lya in that shirt he'd worn after they'd been rained out of their date at the park and her underwear, snuggling between them in her bed. Lya's bed. Gods, it was comfortable. He wished he could hold these two women forever in this godsdamned _comfortable_ fucking bed and _never_ move.

His bladder disagreed. He carefully disentangled himself from the ridiculously sexy pile of feminine limbs he had been sleeping tangled in, and slid out of the bed as carefully as he could. They grumbled at his sudden absence but didn't wake, and held each other tightly; _gods, fuck,_ they were so beautiful. He went to pee.

Then, he found eggs in Lyanna's fridge and set about putting together some passable omelettes with the onions and peppers and mushrooms in her crisper drawer and the cheese on the top shelf, sneaking Bear a treat and earning himself a leg-rub and a _slightly_ less baleful stare.

His women roused and came out investigating the smell of food, and they all sat eating, nursing their low-grade hangovers and offering each other water and aspirin and kisses to make it better.

By the end of breakfast they were much revived, and were discussing logistics for Renly's party, which was only a couple of hours away. They decided to ride together in Shireen's vehicle; the other two felt they'd be fine leaving when she wanted to; and besides, her car was nicest.

Shireen had just gone to take a shower when Rickon's phone rang; it startled him, since people rarely called him these days; he was more accustomed to communicating by text. A glance at the screen and he blanched:

Catelyn Stark

"Shit. Shit!"

"It's Mom," he explained as Lyanna looked up, alarmed. "She knows. It's _got_ to be that she knows; she doesn't tend to call out of the blue unless . . ." he trailed off. He'd known he'd have to face this at some point. He'd better get it over with; the phone was still ringing. He tapped answer. Lyanna sat next to him, her presence calm, paying attention but letting him handle it without trying to step in. He gave her a grateful smile, and turned the phone on speaker.

"Uh, Mom, hi!" His eyes were probably wide, but he tried to _sound_ relaxed. He doubted it worked.

"Hello, Rickon, darling." Catelyn sounded, well, annoyed.

"Uh, how are you?" He'd expected _some_ kind of disapproval, but he wanted to be cautious until he found out exactly _what_ her objection was. Lyanna held his hand.

"I'm fine, Rickon, but your brother . . . well, I've heard something and I need you to tell me what's going on. Are you . . . dating? I mean," she cleared her throat and he could _hear_ her decide to address the thing directly, "I mean that I heard from Robb that you are . . . that you have _two_ girlfriends, Rick, and I want you to explain to me just what you think you are doing and whether you think it is in accordance with how I raised you!" she ended it with a huff. He could see her face, fierce and composed and sharp-eyed, in his mind's eye.

Did she . . . ? _What_ had Robb said that had lead to _this_ tone? "Uh, yes, Mom, I mean, yeah, I am dating two, uh, women. And they are both wonderful, and I know that's . . . unconventional and not . . . traditional or how you, uh, how you'd, like, envision my . . . uh, romantic life to be but I swear I'm doing my very best to be, uh, honorable and gentlemanly and, uh, treat them with respect, and, uh, I don't think they'd take anything less anyway, and, yeah, like I said they're amazing and, uh . . ." He stopped. He was rambling. Lyanna squeezed his fingers. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Mom, I am doing my very best to approach this, uh, _unconventional_ situation with every ounce of care that I can and I think, so far, that I am doing well at that." He said, just a little more confidently.

Catelyn sputtered. "Doing _well_ at that, Rickon? How can one be said to . . . do they _know_ about each other, son?" She sounded very serious. _Do they what? I'll fucking_ kill _Robb!_

He decided on transparency, for the moment, in the face of this absurd question.

"Do they _what?!_ Mom, _what_ exactly did Robb _tell_ you?" Rick tried not to panic. Clearly she didn't have the whole story, and he would have to begin this conversation with damage control, which was decidedly _not_ ideal.

"Well, Robb didn't exactly _tell_ me anything! I overheard him speaking with his . . . with _Roslin_ , after dinner last night, and he . . . _alluded_ to your _two_ girlfriends, and then when I tried to _calmly_ ask him about what he had meant, he, well. He obviously panicked, because I'm _quite sure_ he was under express direction to keep me in the dark on this, and he . . . well, he just told me to ask _you!_ So, that is what I am doing, Rickon!" her voice was exasperated and he understood the tone better now.

 _Fucking Robb. He could have just_ answered _the question . . ._ But . . . he sighed. Really, it was reasonable for Rickon to be the one to explain. The trick was just going to be to get her to _listen_ to it, now that she had already jumped to what, to her, must seem like a reasonable conclusion.

"Okay, okay, Mom, it's okay. I can work with that." As soon as he said it he winced, and she interrupted, as he mentally berated himself for his word choice. The noise of the shower stopped.

"You can _work_ with that, Rickon? I am not here to be _worked_ upon by . . ." He hastened to correct her before she completely derailed.

"I only meant, Mom, that Robb told you to ask me. So, let's start from the beginning, okay? I did _not_ tell Robb or any of the others _not_ to tell you, by the way, but I do think they all probably feel like it's a little hard to explain, and they were probably avoiding telling you because of that. So, it's _my_ situation, so um, why don't I just try to explain, okay?" Directness, which Mom would appreciate, was his best chance at getting through this now, he thought.

"Rickon, I'm not sure there's an explanation that will make this situation _reasonable . . ._ " Catelyn's voice was edged with scorn.

"Mom. _Mom._ How about you just give me the benefit of the doubt here, and _find out_ whether that's true or not before you take me to task, okay? Okay? Because I _promise_ you don't have the full story."

There was a sigh, and his mind's eye helpfully supplied an image of Catelyn pinching the bridge of her nose. "All right," she said tersely.

"Good, good. Okay. So. Here's the situation: I, uh, am in a relationship with, uh, two incredible women, Mom. And it is a _mutual_ relationship between the three of us. So like, yes, uh, they _know_ about each other because they are _in_ it together as well? They are both bisexual women, Mom, so this isn't like, all about me, okay?"

"Mom? You with me?"

She breathed, on the other end of the line. Finally, she answered.

"Oh. Okay. You were right, I did _not_ have all of the information, and I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions, love."

"No worries, Mom . . ."

"However, this is . . . _highly_ unorthodox and . . . I mean, I am not particularly well-versed in the culture of modern . . . relationships and . . . alternative sexualities, but, but, this does seem a bit . . . unstable, maybe, Rickon? Do you think it's likely to _last,_ love?"

Her tone was reassuring, but he caught the implication that she thought he wasn't thinking it through, and it stung. It was . . . somewhat fair, though, in light of some of the relationships he'd had, so he tried to breathe and speak clearly and hold back the resentment that wanted to spit itself out at her.

"Uh, Mom, I can't say for sure what the future will bring, y'know, but, um, I'll say that this is . . . surprisingly stable and feels, uh, feels really down-to-earth and . . . _sweet_ in a way that not a lot of my, uh, more conventional relationships have? Like, we just . . . work really well together and the whole thing was really unexpected and the relationship aspect of it is _very new,_ okay, but I, these two women have been my best friends here for . . . well, practically since I got here, and I _know_ them really well, and I have, well, a lot of confidence in this, really, especially considering how new it is?"

Shireen emerged from the bathroom, fresh-faced and in a _dress_ and he was almost distracted enough to miss Catelyn's next words. Lyanna crossed the room and whispered an explanation to her, and he saw her serious expression and quickly remembered himself. The two women came to sit on either side of him and leaned their weight on him in a very literal display of support.

"Well, okay, love," his mother started, still sounding doubtful. "Wait, did you say . . . these are your _best friends_ down there? I've heard about these girls before, then?"

He knew the prompt for the question it was.

"Yes, Mom. Shireen Baratheon, and Lyanna Mormont. Are my . . . girlfriends," he finished, and _still_ saying those words inspired pure fucking _awe_ because _How is this my life?_

"Shireen _Baratheon? Stannis's_ girl?" She sounded more shocked than when he'd said he was in a mutual relationship with two women. He smiled ruefully.

"Uh, yeah, Mom, _that_ Shireen Baratheon. She's amazing, Mom. You . . . I mean you've met her, but she's . . . a really incredible person. You are always telling me to find a _good_ match, y'know, a _good_ girl and well, she's not _just_ that," looking at Shireen's face turning pink, "but she definitely _is_ that, too, Mom."

"Well, I'm sure _Stannis's_ girl has a level head, but, gods, Rick, does _Stannis_ know about this?" Shireen winced.

He cleared his throat. "No, Mom. Stannis does not know yet. I am, we are," he looked at Lyanna, "definitely letting _Shireen_ decide how and when is best to tell him, okay? Like I said, this is _new,_ so we are getting to that in our own time. The only reason even _Robb_ knew enough for you to overhear, really, is that we all three eat with _Arya_ and Gendry every week, and . . ."

He could hear the wince in her voice. "Oh. Yes, well, Arya can be _really_ quite difficult to keep secrets from, I'm afraid," she explained, as if he wasn't _fully_ aware. "I suppose I ought to thank her for it at moments like these, but I'm not sure it's not unhealthy, the lengths she carries it to . . ."

She seemed to remember herself. "And your . . . _other_ . . . girl, is that . . . the youngest Mormont girl? The one named after your Aunt Lyanna? Isn't she a bit . . . precocious?"

Lyanna had to stifle a snort with her hand, and Shireen's silent laughter sent tears down her cheeks.

Rickon frowned. "That's a . . . strange word to use about a twenty-four year old, Mother," he went for stern. "I'd call her . . . fierce, strong, capable, extremely smart, confident? Honestly, Mom, she's amazing. They both are. In different ways, of course, although _fierce, strong, extremely smart, beautiful,_ those I'd say apply to both." He was grinning as dashingly as he could at the two women trying not to laugh, leaning on him, blushing at him, and he wanted to kiss them so _badly_ , but _focus, Rick,_ first he had to deal with Mom.

"Fierce. Strong. Yes, Rickon, I could see how those could be . . . good qualities in someone for you. I honestly, well, the Mormont girl might be a _bit_ wild, but I'd think _either_ was a perfectly acceptable match for you, Rick, but . . . _both?_ . . . _How_ are we meant to even . . . _talk_ about this, Rick?" She sounded just a little despairing.

On the one hand, he was grateful they'd made it to this point in the conversation: the point at which she stopped worrying about _Rick_ in the equation, which meant she had at least accepted the idea, that she didn't _hate_ either Shireen or Lyanna or the _idea_ of them, that she wasn't worrying about what they'd _do_ to him or whether he'd _hurt_ them. But on the other hand, it meant she had moved on to worrying about how it _looked,_ and _that_ , Rickon had never had any patience for whatsoever. He felt fully justified, this time, in being curt.

"Mother, I suppose _you_ can decide how to _talk_ about it, or you could just choose _not_ to gossip about me with your friends if that makes you feel better; I do _not_ care which," he said firmly. "But please explain it to Dad, okay? I don't want him to overhear Robb's big mouth and have to do this all over again!"

"I will speak to your Father, but I'm not certain I can make him understand, Rickon, as I don't completely understand myself!" She sounded less exasperated now than she had before, at least. It was a start.

"That's fine, Mom. Please just explain it how you understand it, and let him know it's fine to call me if he wants, okay?" He doubted he'd hear from Ned over this, but it was important to leave the lines of communication open, anyway.

"All right, Rickon."

"Thanks, Mom. I love you." He did, and he wanted to make sure he told her. As often as he could, really.

"I love you too, Rickon. Please be careful with your heart, okay? And . . . with those girls too?"

"Yes, Mom, I will." He was serious in his answer, and he hoped she could hear it: that was exactly what he wanted to do.

"Okay, love. Goodbye." She sounded worn out by Rickon and his crazy lifestyle, as usual, but she also sounded fond and, maybe, happy for him too, just a little?

"Bye, Mom." He hung up, sighed loudly, and buried his face in Lyanna's hair, his hand in Shireen's, squeezing.

Shireen started laughing first; it was just a continuation, really, of the laugh that had started with the word _precocious_ and simmered quietly during the rest of the call; now it was loud, barking, and tears were leaking from the sides of her eyes again; and Lyanna collapsed into a fit of giggles the minute Shireen quit holding back, snorting and kicking her foot feebly; and Rick had to join them, throwing his head back and cackling at the ridiculousness of his mother's admission that Shireen was a _good girl_ and calling Lya _precocious_ and "a _bit_ wild" and her infuriating obsession with how things would _look_ and her attempts to take the whole thing in stride . . . _gods_.

It had gone better than he'd thought it would when he had realized what Robb had done, anyway. Maybe he'd benefitted from it, really: the weirdness of it looked positively angelic next to what she'd _assumed_ when she'd overheard it. Perhaps he ought to thank Robb, really, he mused. He _wouldn't,_ though.

"Well, I guess that's another hurdle crossed, loves," he panted out when they'd all stopped laughing long enough to speak. "I think it went rather well, actually." He lost it and devolved into laughter for another long moment.

They laughed again, but they nodded. "I'm glad that's done," Lya got out, "even if she does think I'm . . . ah, gods . . . _precocious!_ " She lost her cool and erupted into giggles again, and Shireen gasped with it, trying not to laugh lest she choke.

"Your mother is a bit strange, Rick, but I can see she loves you and wants you to be happy," Shireen ventured when they were calm again, "and cares what kind of man you are, which is pretty great." He knew she was thinking of her own absent, uninvolved mother. "And she was able to . . . fathom the idea of it, at least. Even with how, um, _unconventional_ it is. It gives me some hope about talking to Dad."

 _That_ Rickon was very happy to hear.

He still needed to vent just a little, though, and _at_ _someone_ in particular. He pulled his phone back out and opened the group chat with his siblings.

Stark Sib Group Chat (members: 7)

> Rickon: Okay, ROBB, wtf?
> 
> Arya: What did he DO?
> 
> Bran: Oh, shit
> 
> Robb: What?
> 
> Rickon: Really Robb? "What?" MOM just called me
> 
> Arya: Bran, you owe me $25
> 
> Sansa: Bran, you bet AGAINST Robb as the person who'd spill?!?
> 
> Bran: NO! No, we all know Robb is most likely by far, it would have had to be a fluke if it wasn't him. I just thought it would take more than a week
> 
> Sansa: Oh, okay
> 
> Robb: Shit, dude sorry! She just, I was there for Smith's Day dinner with Roslin and I thought we were alone, I swear she's a ninja and I didn't know she was listening and I didn't know what to do so I basically just froze and she tried to give me the third degree and all, so I just basically was like, talk to Rickon, talk to Rickon, I don't know!
> 
> Arya: So did she rip you a new one? Do you need damage control, or comfort, or ice cream, or what Rick?
> 
> Rickon: It went ... all right I think? Since Robb did NO damage control I had to convince her they KNEW about each other first
> 
> Arya: Dammit, Robbert!
> 
> Bran: ROBB, ffs!
> 
> Sansa: Gasp! She thought you were seeing two women without them KNOWING?
> 
> Rickon: Yeah, I guess? Once I got her to calm down enough to explain she got pretty ... sputtery and said she didn't know much about "alternative sexualities" but mainly I think she was just worried it was, like, a fling type of thing and someone would get hurt
> 
> Arya: Huh, that's more reasonable than I would have guessed
> 
> Arya: But hahahaha "alternative sexualities" oh gods, MOM
> 
> Bran: Ffs Mom
> 
> Rickon: Yeah, somewhat reasonable
> 
> Rickon: So then she had a moment where she was all "Shireen BARATHEON?" and "STANNIS"S girl???" and, gods
> 
> Sansa: Ahahahahaha
> 
> Arya: Hahahaha
> 
> Robb: Oh, yeah, weird
> 
> Rickon: And then she got to Lya and she called her "precocious" and we near about lost it over here trying not to laugh
> 
> Sansa: "Precocious"? What is she, twelve?
> 
> Rickon: EXACTLY
> 
> Arya: Oh, GODS, Mom
> 
> Bran: AHAHAHAHAHAHHAhahahahahahah, Oh, gods, I am crying over here ... oh fucking gods, MOM
> 
> Rickon: And then we rolled right into "but how do I TELL people" and I was like, LOL, just, like, DON'T or whatever, just please tell DAD so I don't have to deal with fallout from fucking ROBB again
> 
> Robb: Okay, okay, I'm sorry!
> 
> Jon: It was completely predictable that they would find out this way
> 
> Jon: We all know how Robb is, and he is at their house far more than the rest of us
> 
> Jon: And he cannot for the life of him just explain things
> 
> Bran: So here we are
> 
> Rickon: Yeah. It's fine, really. I knew it was coming, I just didn't know exactly when. At least we weren't, like, getting it on when she called or whatever
> 
> Arya: LALALALALALA can't hear you PLS DON'T TALK ABOUT HAVING SEX WITH YOUR GFS RICK
> 
> Bran: STRONGLY seconded, I don't need that image
> 
> Robb: THIRDED
> 
> Rickon: Serves you right Robb
> 
> Arya: BUT WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF US, PLS HAVE MERCY
> 
> Theon: I don't mind!
> 
> Arya: GODS, Theon, SHUT UP!
> 
> Rickon: Yeah, yeah. You are safe, I do not want to talk to you about that anyway
> 
> Theon: Awwwwwww
> 
> Arya: Shut up Theon!
> 
> Sansa: Hush, Theon
> 
> Theon: Okay, Sansa

After he felt satisfied that Robb was at least a _little_ contrite, and that his siblings were all aware that his situation had been promoted to the "Mom and Dad know" stage, he put his phone away. Lya was showering, and Shireen was . . . fidgeting, now that he paid attention. Picking at the hem of her . . . _gods,_ she looked good in that little dress. _Focus, Rick._

"Hey Shir, you okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Uh, I guess . . . I'm just nervous. We're not exactly . . . subtle? I guess? I mean, I guess what I mean is I just realized I don't . . . _want_ us to be? Like, trying to pretend I'm not your girlfriend, not Lya's girlfriend, at this party, sounds . . . _worse_ than telling Dad, now, and I wish I had already done it? But now if I want to tell Dad it will probably be, like . . . a whole thing and I _hate_ attention and I _don't_ want them all to look at me and quiz me and like . . . I think I fucked this up." She breathed, but continued looking agitated.

"Oh. Yeah. I guess . . . I hadn't put much thought into how we would _act_ at this, at Renly's party, either. Do you want to . . . I mean, you could tell your dad _now,_ but I don't know that you'd completely avoid a scene that way. It probably, uh, takes some time to get used to? But maybe, would it be better, to call him, or . . . ? Or we could, like, just try to stay far enough away from each other that it's not obvious?" He finished lamely. He knew _that_ would be fucking hard to actually do.

"No. No, I mean, yeah. I mean. Maybe . . . maybe I _should_ call Dad. Just, like, give him a 'heads up' or whatever? I mean, this is going to be weird no matter _how_ I do it, right?" He nodded, trying to encourage her to do this however she felt she needed to. She was right: _Stannis_ was just not going to be the easiest person to talk to about it. No matter the circumstances.

Lya, with a towel on her head but otherwise looking put together, came stomping in. She looked at Shireen's face and frowned. "What now?"

Rick explained that Shireen was considering whether to drop the news on Stannis pre-party. Lya looked thoughtful.

"Yeah," she considered, "You're right that this party is just waiting to be a bit of a scene. _Maybe_ we'll get away with slipping under the radar if there's a big enough hubbub around Alys and Alyn, and Gendry, but I really don't think we should be _hoping_ for that . . . I mean, I have no objections if you want to talk to your Dad now. We'll support you either way, right Rick?" He nodded, of course.

"And," Lya continued, "If you decide to just let it play out, I mean, we'll be there with you. You don't have to do any of it alone, okay?"

Shireen nodded distractedly, and then relaxed some and looked at Lya and Rickon. "Yeah. Thanks. You guys are . . . awesome. Incredible. This is . . . this thing between us is _amazing,_ and I want you to know it's really . . . important to me and I . . . yeah. I think I want to just call Dad and at least get . . . that part out of the way. It might still be a big deal at the party, I mean, _Ren_ and _Loras,_ for the gods' sake, but I think what I would have the most trouble with is dealing with them _and_ Dad at the same time, so . . . yeah. I think this will work." She took a deep breath, and steeled herself. "Is it . . . I think I'd rather not . . . put it on speaker. I don't want you to think I'm . . . I just, I think I need to talk to _just_ Dad, okay?"

"Of course, love," Lya was nodding, "I understand, you do it _your_ way."

Rick agreed, nodding and grinning so Shireen would get it. "Yeah, Shir, I just . . . wanted you guys to hear because, uh, that felt . . . supportive, uh, to _me,_ with Mom specifically? Y'know, if it had been Dad, even, I probably wouldn't have . . . have done that and _you_ can do whatever makes you feel the most comfortable, okay?"

"Okay." She breathed. "Yeah. Okay. But stay nearby?"

They both nodded and smiled at her, encouraging.

"Okay! Okay, I'm gonna call him." And she poked at her phone and then held it up to her ear. After a moment, her face changed and it was obvious Stannis had picked up.

"Hey, Dad!" her cheer was a little forced.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine, uh, look, uh, do you have a second to talk?" She winced, but breathed calmly.

A short pause.

"Um, yeah, I know, sorry. Um. I just have something I wanted to tell you about and, um . . . Look, I know it's probably pretty obvious that I'm, uh, seeing someone?"

Her face was just a little red now.

"Yes, that's . . . yeah, that's where I've been the last couple of nights, and I'm bringing them to the party, yes, so, I just . . . I felt like I should just . . . tell you about it, before, uh, before the party, before you meet them? I mean, you've _met_ them, I just mean, y'know. I figured you'd guess something, and _Renly_ and _Loras_ are likely to guess too and I just, wanted to speak to you about it, um, first?" Slight pause.

"Yes. I _am_ getting to the point, it's just a little . . . um, _unconventional,_ and, and, a little hard for me to talk about easily, yet?"

Another pause, equally brief.

"Um, _sort_ of? Okay, um, look Dad, I'm, it's just, I'm . . . I'm actually dating _two_ people. Okay? A um, woman, yes, _and_ a man? It's Lyanna and Rickon. I'm dating both of them, we are . . . uh, _all_ dating each other. Like, as a unit? They are my boyfriend and my girlfriend." She finished it firmly, though her face was much redder now.

The pause was longer, but Rickon guessed that she wasn't _listening_ to Stannis so much as _waiting_ for him to say something.

"Dad?" She confirmed his suspicion.

Rickon could hear a faint cough from the phone. A pause as Stannis spoke. It stretched on a bit longer. Finally Shireen spoke again.

"Yes, Dad, I know it's not . . . I mean, yes, it's more . . . _adventurous_ than I usually. Uh. Than has been my habit. I didn't exactly _plan_ this, Dad, it just, it _happened_ and it's . . . I mean, _both_ of them are just really . . . incredible? Wonderful? I'm not . . . I mean, you _know_ I don't blow things out of proportion, Dad, and I'm trying to be as sensible as possible in this situation, but I _really_ just feel, like, _extremely comfortable?_ " She squeaked a bit.

"Totally comfortable, happy, not at all off-balance or anything and it's . . . it's them, Dad, _they_ make me feel that way, they are really, I mean, this is _much_ better than I would have expected, Dad." She took a breath. "It's . . . really new, but, we, I mean, it just _works_ and I, I guess, I just wanted to know that you'd . . . uh, _try_ to be, uh . . . understanding, about it? Like, uh, give it a chance? And y'know, be _nice_ to them?" She was breathing hard. That had been a _lot_ of words for Shireen.

A pause. Shireen rolled her eyes.

"Uh, yeah, no one is expecting _conversation_ from _you,_ Dad. I just meant, like, don't . . . try to run them off or anything? Maybe tell Robert to shut it if he says anything incredibly stupid?" She smiled. Rick knew she had him there; there was no way Stannis could resist _that_ invitation. If he was saying yes to that, though, Rick was grateful. It seemed likely, the more he thought about it, that Robert _would_ say something incredibly stupid—if he noticed at all—and it would be really _helpful_ to have Stannis on their side then.

"And maybe, maybe, uh, help defend me, uh, _us,_ a little if Ren and Loras get out of hand?" She looked like she felt she was pushing it, a little. Then she looked relieved.

" _Thanks,_ Dad. I really appreciate it. I'm sorry I didn't give you more warning about this. Like I said, it's very new and . . ." Pause. "Yeah. Okay. That's good, okay, Dad. I will see you there. Love ya." Pause, and then she poked her phone and put it away, sighing heavily with . . . relief? She looked happy, at least. Overwhelmed, but . . . okay. Rick grinned at her as encouragingly as he could.

"You okay, love?" Lya ventured.

"Yeah. Just, yeah." She sighed again. "He's . . . profoundly uncomfortable . . . about it, as truly, only Dad can be, and that's going to be . . . hard, for me, I think? I'm so used to things being quiet but _comfortable_ between me and Dad, at least since . . . y'know, since the last time we, uh, talked to _Mom._ " She grimaced.

"And I think this will . . . _upset_ that, for a bit? But I think it's _really_ manageable, and that Dad will come around. It feels . . . it feels like it might even be _helpful_ , if Robert or anyone is weird? Even this stuff with Gen and his sibs, like, Dad took my side, y'know, and that feels like . . . solid ground, or something?"

She was almost shaking, for all that her words were mostly positive and hopeful. He wrapped her in his arms, and felt Lyanna do the same.

"We're here with you, Shir." He soothed. "And you're right. Your dad will come around. He just has to, like, _process_ it or whatever and that takes some time, I guess? But it sounded like he was still, uh, _with_ you, right? He didn't say anything too . . . weird or negative or anything, that we missed, did he?"

"Nah. He was quiet a lot, and I know he needs to think it through, and I should probably go _talk_ to him about it more, like, before the next family dinner, and, ugh, _neither_ of us will _want_ to talk but it _will help,_ so, yeah, but . . . yeah, I am _sure_ it is going to be okay. And overall that feels good." She calmed, some.

"But it just feels, like, uh, it's . . . uh, it's just hard for it not to already _be_ okay, y'know?" She tried to explain. "Like, it's uh, it's just _him_ and _me,_ so I, uh, _anything_ that makes it even a _little_ weird between us is just, really, uh, _hard,_ y'know?"

They did know. Lya and Rick kept on holding Shireen, reassuring her with their touch and with soft voices that they _did_ understand, that it was okay, would be okay, that they were here, and that they'd do their best to help ease the strain and that they'd be as _gentle_ with Stannis as they could, to help ease his mind. Shireen relaxed in their arms, and he was content.

Secretly, Rickon thought about Sansa and wondered, if anything came of her confession, whether that would move things in the direction of _calmer_ or _less calm_ in the waters between Stannis and his daughter. Shireen hadn't seemed _completely_ freaked out at the idea that her dad might be _interested_ in Sansa, but he didn't know how she'd take knowing that Sansa _reciprocated_ that feeling, either. It shook up their comfortable twosome of a family unit, certainly, but this relationship with him and Lyanna was doing that already, so . . . maybe it was a good time for it? Maybe it wouldn't even come up, he thought glumly. He couldn't trust that either his sister _or_ Shir's dad would actually go for it, or that it would _work_ if so. He'd just have to wait and see.

— — —


	11. SHIREEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renly's party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, smut next chapter, I promise :)

— — —

Renly lived a little ways out of the city, with a little bit of countryside and a nice view around his slightly ostentatious split-level house. There was a hill and a sea of green treetops below it that one could see from the veranda in back. Shireen drove the three of them out there, since walking wasn't an option and they'd decided to stick together. On the way they listened to music and their conversation was ordinary. It was strange: what they had among them was extraordinary, but it was, fundamentally, just a blend of the ordinary but deep friendships they'd had before, enhanced by the melding of them into one three-person alliance and the layer of intense attraction and _sex_ on top.

The late afternoon sunlight streamed into the car windows and a few clouds ambled by. The storm that always threatened in the Stormlands didn't seem likely to plague Renly's party. Shireen hummed along with a song and concentrated on driving safely. It wasn't far, and when they arrived she parked on the street just in front of the house. They'd brought beer: Shireen had suggested it, thinking Ren and Loras would probably only have wine (and a liquor cabinet for Robert), and that beer might make Alyn, Alys, Gendry, and Arya a little more comfortable.

They stepped out through the long light and walked up to the house. They were a little early (she _was_ Stannis's daughter, after all), and at the door Renly squealed greetings and then came to fawn over his niece. His thick black hair and neat beard sparkled in the daylight through the door. His bright teal green vest made his eyes look greenish blue, thought their true hue wasn't far from her own. Inside, the light was warm and rosy.

"Baby Niece! Give us a hug, sweetie! Loras, _look who's hee-re!_ " he singsonged to his partner in the kitchen.

Loras, all soft features and wavy brown hair and warm brown eyes and snug shirt in heathered brown, emerged and waggled his eyebrows at Shireen and she could see him marshal his forces and immediately launch his campaign to _find out._

"Aaaaaand, _who_ do we have here?" Loras had met Rickon before, and probably knew or guessed who Lya was, but she knew he was angling for more information than just names.

Shireen only thought about it for a minute. Then she looked at her lovers. A quirk of the eyebrow and she could see they knew what she was thinking. They each nodded, Lyanna a quick, curt nod, and Rick with the beginnings of a grin. She took a deep breath.

"Uh, Loras, Ren," Shireen started, gaining volume and confidence as she spoke, "These are my _significant others._ Uh, my _girlfriend,_ Lyanna Mormont. And my _boyfriend,_ Rickon Stark." She turned to them, grinned, and gestured, "My uncles Renly and Loras."

She stopped talking, and simply savored the look of shock on Loras's face. She knew it was unlikely he'd look like _that_ because of _her_ again in her lifetime. Meanwhile, Renly was babbling.

"Whaaaaaaat?! Girl, you said you were bisexual but I didn't know you meant like _two at a time_ bisexual! _What?!_ Shireeeeen, baby niece, you have _shocked_ me! And that is _not_ easy to do!"

He looked appraisingly at Lyanna and Rickon, pursed his lips, and pretended to consider. His eyes twinkled, and he grinned. "Well, let's just hope you're both _deserving,_ " he said playfully. "Only the best for my baby niece!"

Rick spluttered a little, but Lyanna crossed her arms, arched her brow, and deadpanned, "Oh, I think we're _good_ enough." Renly crowed.

He shook his head, whispering, "It's always the quiet ones!" Then he stopped when he, too, noticed Loras's face. "Oh, hey, _look!_ I think you broke my husband!" He grinned widely, apparently just as pleased with Loras's dumbfounded state as Shireen was.

"Well, you'll have to dish on how you three, uh . . . _got together_ later. First come in and put those beers in the kitchen, loves." _And thus,_ thought Shireen, _possibly_ hours _of Loras being nosy were avoided._ The same trick had saved them from Arya, so she shouldn't have been surprised. She just hadn't really considered before that it could be applied to _her_ family.

They deposited the beer and were ushered into the living room where the large windows showed the afternoon light and treetops stretching off into the distance. A picture-perfect fire was roaring, hors d'oeuvres covered a table, and the predicted wine was attractively displayed. Shireen shook her head.

She took advantage of a loud banging at the door to march back into the kitchen and grab several beers from the stash they'd brought, along with a bottle opener. She slid back to the living room and deposited them in the tub of ice with the white wine, arranging them as nicely she could and setting the opener nearby, just in time to see Uncle Robert stomping in, struggling with his enormous coat, which Loras was valiantly trying to take from him.

His frame was massive; taller than Renly by a couple of inches and Rick by more; and he was _fat_ where those were lean and lithe. He had been muscular rather than fat in his younger years, but Shireen could barely remember him that way. Predictably, he roared in greeting.

"Shireen! How are you, girl?" he boomed. "Who's that, a Stark? Which one are you, boy?"

"Rickon, Uncle, the youngest," Rick helpfully supplied, valiantly suppressing an eyeroll.

"Oh! Yes. The youngest." Robert looked thoughtful. "Must be getting old, I thought at least one of Ned's children was still, well, a child . . ." he muttered. Then he brightened and moved on to Lyanna.

"And who are you then, girl?" Shireen winced internally at both the looming and the leering, and she would have felt worse for Lya if she wasn't, well, _Lya._ She could handle worse than Robert, Shireen was sure.

"Lyanna Mormont," her _lovely_ girlfriend answered plainly, shaking his massive paw in her little hand much more firmly than Robert clearly expected her to be capable of. It _almost_ distracted him enough to miss her _name_.

"Lyanna!" he roared. "Lyanna, eh?" More quietly. Then he went back to roaring, "That was the name of the girl I loved most dear in all the . . ."

Lyanna, _gods_ Shireen _loved_ the balls of that woman, _interrupted_ him.

"Yes; I was named for Lyanna Stark. Seems my mother took a shine to her as well," her eyes sparkled. Robert's eyes widened a bit, and Shireen could _see_ Lyanna wait _just_ a second longer, letting him get the wrong idea, before she corrected, "Oh! No, no, not like that." She grinned. "The whole of the North must have been impressed with Lyanna Stark, to some degree. She was friends with my sister, Dacey, for a time, and my mother loved her like a daughter. She was devastated, as they all were, when she died, you know. . . ." Yes, Shireen mused, there were _many_ people who could lay more claim on a reason to mourn Lyanna Stark than _Robert Baratheon,_ though he'd probably never allow himself to see it.

Robert covered his confusion and looked wistful. "Yes, well, she was something, that girl, she was really _something._ " Shireen kept a straight face. From the corner of her eye she saw Rickon turn and fish a beer out of the ice, turning his back to Robert, and guessed he'd failed at the same task and was rolling his eyes as hard as she wanted roll her own.

Loras's face was a study under his chestnut curls. He was clearly _dying_ , now that he'd recovered from his shock, to _tell_ someone about the juicy piece of news that was Shireen's romantic involvement with _two_ people; but at the moment, the only person available to tell was _Robert_ , and even Loras balked at that, and with good reason. Robert was bound to either misunderstand, be deliberately rude, or say something wildly inappropriate that he found hilarious and no one else did. There simply weren't other options. Shireen knew it would get around to him eventually, but she rather hoped she wouldn't actually have to listen to his reaction. Loras, fortunately, didn't give in to his impulse, and just continued to hover, his mouth opening and closing, and Shireen was grateful when another knock at the door put him out of his misery.

Fortunately for Loras, this time the guests in question were _exactly_ the people he wanted to see. "Garlan! Leo, honey!"

Shireen learned that the presence of Loras's older brother and his wife in Storm's End was, in great part, the motivation behind the timing of Renly and Loras's party—not that they really needed much excuse to throw one. She'd not met them before, but they were perfectly lovely—Garlan taller and broader than Loras, the same soft brown features but with a beard, just as talkative, but with fewer attempts at _wit_ and more calm agreeability, and Leonette dainty, bright-eyed, dark-haired, and, it seemed, genuinely kind.

Robert's attention was thus diverted from Shireen, Lyanna, and Rickon, who took the opportunity to procure plates of food, beer, and wine and sit near the fire, talking with each other and trying, once the greetings and introductions were through, to avoid being drawn in to either Robert's thunderous exchanges or the whispered blatant _gossip_ that Loras was finally managing to indulge in, with Garlan and Leonette listening with little frowns of disapproval for Loras, wide glances at the niece in question and her _significant others_ , and a general sparkle in their eyes.

Lya glanced at the bookshelves, probably judging Ren's and Loras's taste. Rickon completely predictably opened up his sketchpad and began to render likenesses of the party's guests, the sunset over the trees outside, and a couple of interesting objects. Renly showed Robert to the liquor cabinet near the kitchen (not that he needed directions), thankfully, and that distracted _him_ thoroughly enough for the moment.

After that, Dad arrived, and Shireen was able to share a quick-and-awkward _(not really awkward)_ hug with him, and draw him into a stilted, truly awkward, brief conversation with Rick and Lya that was more or less just an acknowledgement of their involvement with his daughter in the broadest terms. He towered almost as tall as Robert, and was imposing in a stiffer, less _loud_ way. He was true to his word, though, and was decently polite by _Stannis_ standards, and certainly didn't threaten or directly scorn them despite his scowl and the misgivings in his eyes.

Robert greeted his middle brother with a booming salutation and a massive whack on the back, at which Dad winced and scowled, of course. They exchanged a few words Shireen couldn't hear from across the room: the conversation was reduced to a counterpoint between boom and grumble from there. Dad looked as uncomfortable as always in the presence of Robert, but the tension stayed at its normal low hum and didn't boil up into anything alarming.

A couple more guests arrived: Renly introduced Bryce Caron, a tallish ginger with an impeccable wardrobe, and Guyard Morrigen, stocky and all in green, whose big face broke into an impish smile as he greeted Loras and Renly. Shireen raised her eyebrows at her uncle, but he assured her good-naturedly that only _one_ more of his friends was likely to put in an appearance—he was well aware of both Stannis's and Shireen's firm dislike of _large, crowded_ parties. Robert stalked back toward the liquor cabinet, again, _already._

Then, _finally,_ Arya and Gendry arrived, with Alyn, Alys, and Sansa in tow. The three Baratheon bastards' faces showed . . . well, varying degrees of belligerence mixed with trepidation. Gendry was stormy: his eyes looked dark in his dark clothes. He'd obviously _not_ dressed up (she wasn't sure Gendry ever did, really) and wore his customary grey sweater and jeans. Alys wore a red wool jacket over a silvery dress that looked knit and warm, while her face looked stony, and her twin was more transparent in his nervousness, plucking at his own bright red sweater and scowling.

The two Stark women, in their vastly different styles, took charge and confidently led the rest into the house: Arya aggressively, looking like the fighter she was in her grey leather jacket and fitted pants; and Sansa, with perfect poise, in a lovely cloud blue dress, with a high neck and delicate embroidery, that Shireen was sure she'd made herself, her long waves of auburn hair curling down gracefully.

Loras greeted Sansa with exclamations and genuine warmth, but both he and Renly retreated into politeness with the rest of the arrivals, and their initial attempts at familiarity and joking conversation were quite awkward. Bryce Caron loudly exclaimed at the similarity in looks among Alyn, Alys, and Gendry, saying how much they all looked _just_ like Renly and asking the latter if they were his secret children; Loras's frantic whispering in his ear, presumably explaining that yes, they _were_ secret children, but not _Renly's,_ made his face turn as orange as his hair, but shut him up, at least.

And then Robert returned to the room with a fresh glass of whiskey, and met a wall of stone faces—deep blue eyes framed by inky black hair—that looked _so_ alike, in grey and silver and red, and blanched. The room froze for a second, but Robert was nothing if not _social._ He quickly recovered, grinned broadly (and only a _little_ ruefully) to cover his initial reaction, and returned to his characteristic boom: "Well! You must be my children! Ha, you look just like me; I should dig up some of the old pictures! Now, which ones are ya, then?" And the breath returned to the room.

Alys and Alyn awkwardly introduced themselves to their father. They confirmed, to Robert's obvious misplaced pride, that they were twins, and when they mentioned their mother's name no one in the room missed Robert's blank look. They mentioned Casterly Rock, and Lannisport, and the blank look was replaced by something dark; Shireen wondered if Robert _knew_ about the treatment the twins and their mother had received at Cersei's hands, or if _(more likely, really)_ the look was only due to his own personal feelings about the Lannisters.

Gendry, who'd already met Robert once or twice, shook his hand briefly and seemed mainly to be trying to prevent him from getting too close to Arya. They moved out of range and chatted with Guyard Morrigen while snagging beers and food.

While Robert attempted to make light conversation with Alys and Alyn and ignore the blatant fact that he'd missed the first nineteen years of _his children's_ lives, Shireen stole a glance at her dad. Stannis stood in the dimming sunlight by the window, and he'd gone rigid (well, more rigid than _usual,_ but close enough that probably no one else had noticed) when the last guests had arrived: and, sure enough, he was _pretending_ to attend to the conversation between Robert and his westerlander children but was _actually_ stealing covert glances at Sansa Stark.

The truly _interesting_ thing was that Sansa, quite perceptive and, presumably, forewarned by Rickon, had, to Shireen's eye, probably _noticed_ Stannis's covert attention, but rather than smoothly ignoring it, as Shireen had expected, or looking uncomfortable or annoyed, as she'd been a little worried she might, she was instead . . . _blushing?_ Just slightly, prettily, _blushing_ , curling a lock of her fiery hair around a finger, and otherwise looking unperturbed.

Most of the room was spectating the ridiculously stilted conversation between Robert Baratheon and, well, mostly _Alyn_ Hill, as Alys had said what was required of her, crossed her arms over her dress, and gone back to belligerent staring. Still, she hadn't abandoned Alyn, so that was good.

Renly, bless him, clapped his hands and brilliantly _distracted_ everyone by yammering about food, drinks, and entertainment—Renly had a projector set up on the veranda with, currently, live feed of several kittens at the local shelter, playing, and a movie planned for later.

Then a knock at the door heralded the party's final guest—an enormous woman _(Robert's height at least!)_ with blond hair, freckles, a broken-looking nose, and beautiful clear blue eyes. She shrugged off a coat not _quite_ as big as Robert's (she was slim where he was . . . not) and her shoulders were hunched under her dark blue tailored shirt in a way that Shireen recognized immediately as the posture of someone tall and shy. She entered the room with a quiet hello and was warmly greeted by Renly and Loras, and introduced as Brienne Tarth.

The room broke into smaller, easier conversations; Shireen and her lovers continued their snacking in front of the fire and were joined by Alyn and Alys, who'd exhausted their patience with trying to converse with Robert. Stannis hesitantly sat on an empty chair nearby just as twilight changed all the colors of the room, and introduced himself quietly to the twins, and for a second Shireen was overcome with a mixture of relief, pride, and sympathy for her dad, who was clearly battling his dislike of the social setting and _small talk_ to try to greet and be tolerably welcoming to Alys and Alyn. They responded well, overcoming their own taciturn natures to ask him a few questions about Storm's End and his own living situation. When Alyn asked him what he did for a living, he grew serious.

"I'm glad you asked. I'm an attorney; specifically, I'm in Divorce and Family Law. I want you to know that I'm here if you need any advice or have any questions about your situation with respect to Robert, or anything like that. It would be considered a wild conflict of interest for me to actually _represent_ you in any official capacity on any case related to Robert; however, I _can_ certainly give advice and recommend people to you who could be helpful if it comes to that."

"You should know that in the personal realm, my _interests_ rarely align with his, in the practical sense; and that, in my personal view, he's been _grossly_ negligent in his duty toward you. I can't offer anything that's Robert's to give; nor can I be the parent you are lacking. I might, however, put my own expertise and connections at your disposal if they should be needed." With a modest flourish, he handed them each a neat glossy business card that reflected the firelight.

Shireen was positively shocked, and she registered both Rick's and Lyanna's gasps in her periphery as she stared at her dad. Alyn and Alys seemed at least a little impressed, and quietly smiled at him. Alys ventured, "Uh, thank you, um, mister Baratheon . . ."

" _Stannis,_ please." He interrupted simply.

"Um, Stannis. This is . . . unexpected and . . . appreciated." Alyn nodded in agreement.

Stannis nodded sharply, and added softly and directly, "You were neglected. You _all_ were. It wasn't my doing, but it has been . . . brought to my attention," here he glanced briefly at Shireen, "that as you _are_ my family, I've been remiss as well. I'd like to offer what support I can."

Shireen glanced away to disguise the tears that rose briefly to her eyes, and her eyes landed on Arya, near the couch, looking uncomfortable while Gendry attempted to answer Robert's clearly bad joke with anything other than a scowl, and Sansa, closer to the fire, who was _staring at Stannis_ in fascination. She was standing close enough by that she'd probably heard most of the exchange with Alyn and Alys. Something in her face was . . . proud? Impressed? That slight blush was back in her cheeks as well. _What_ was going on? Did _Sansa_ . . . ?

Her dad, having said his piece, stood stiffly and walked away, heading for the table laden with food. Darkness had fallen outside and the firelight shone on his broad back in his pristine white shirt. Shireen turned to Rick and Lya, but not before seeing Sansa quietly move to follow him. _Interesting._

Alyn and Alys were a bit stunned, and turned to Shireen.

"Your dad is . . . a force of nature." Alys spoke. "I can _see_ that your description was, uh, accurate," she smiled at his back and imitated his scowl, which looked slightly more . . . _stiff_ than the one Alys, Alyn, Gendry, and apparently Mya shared. "But I guess I can see some of those . . . _good qualities_ you were talking about, too." Alyn nodded.

Rickon grinned at Shireen, and Lya looked proud. "What?"

"Oh, come on, Shir. You get credit for at least a little of that," Lya beamed.

"Oh. Oh, uh, no. I didn't tell him to . . . or suggest . . . any of that. Just that inviting them to the party was, y'know. That they are _family._ " She mumbled. She hadn't really wanted the Hill twins to know that she'd had to argue to even get them _invited,_ because she believed they should have been from the beginning. Their eyes swiveled to her, but they didn't comment on it.

What she found more interesting was that Rickon's gaze kept flicking away, and she guessed even before she followed his eyes what he was tracking, but it still shocked her a bit when she found it: her dad had clearly been waylaid by Sansa, and the two of them were standing with half-empty plates forgotten in their hands near the hors d'oeuvres table, and they were obviously . . . _flirting?_ She stared. _Dad_ was _flirting?_

And it was not just him: Sansa's head was thrown back and she smiled widely, her long neck arched above the floaty blue dress, leaning close to _Stannis Baratheon._ In fact, now that she put the pieces together, she'd put money on Sansa having started it. Both because she knew Dad's reticence and because . . . well, the signs had been there: the faint blush she'd caught on Sansa's cheeks when she'd been watching Dad, her following him with that determined look . . . Shireen snapped her gaze back to Rickon.

His expression was thoroughly pleased. He'd paused in the middle of a sketch of someone she thought was probably Sansa. The fire crackled. The sky outside turned black.

"You _knew?_ " She hissed at him. The hum of conversation around her continued on as though _Sansa Stark_ wasn't _flirting_ with _Stannis Baratheon._ Arya looked thoughtful, but not displeased, across the room.

"I swore not to tell. Wasn't sure she'd make a move," he quietly explained.

But gods, she _had,_ and as absolutely _weird_ as the idea of her dad hitting it off romantically with Rick's sister was, the main feeling it brought her, immediately, was _hope._ She'd not had much hope for Dad in that arena for years: since creepy Mel and her attempt to drag Dad into her fire cult, probably.

But she could immediately see that Sansa, though a little neurotic and somewhat insecure, would be someone she could trust to treat Dad with respect and gentleness. And in Rick's face she could see some of the same hope. She recalled what she knew of Sansa's troubles with men, and hoped that Dad could overcome his shyness and, well, harsh self-protective instincts, and show Sansa the side of him _she_ knew: the one with the comfortable silences and small twitches of smile and subtle signals of love and admiration that she so appreciated. The Stannis Baratheon who was a gentleman and respectful and could treat someone like Sansa with the gentleness and care she deserved.

It felt positively _strange_ to _want_ someone else to see that side of Dad; she was very accustomed to having him to herself. Maybe it was the . . . well, strong emotions she felt more and more in the presence of Lyanna and Rickon—which she was starting to struggle to deny, even if only to herself; and maybe it was really _wanting_ Dad's happiness, just as she always had, and seeing a chance at something that might improve it radically, where she hadn't been looking for it; but the very sight of Sansa _giggling_ and looking at Dad with such open admiration and . . . well. High color, let's say. _Want, lust,_ her mind _so_ helpfully supplied, and she saw the same in Dad's eyes and remembered exactly _why_ it was strange and came back to her surroundings with a start as she hastily looked away from _that._

Lyanna was looking bemusedly from Shireen's face, to Rickon's, to the scene they'd been watching, and back.

"Soooo, _that's_ very interesting," she deadpanned. Then smirked.

Shireen and Rickon busted out laughing, and Shireen, in the warmth of the fire, kept the hope that had bubbled up in her heart locked in there, not letting it go for a second. She'd have to wait and see.

— — —

Later they sat bundled up outside while Renly and Loras plugged in patio heaters and started the movie on the projectors. It was too dark to see the woods, but the deep blackness of uninhabited space and the quiet night sounds behind her uncles' home had a beauty of their own. By this time, Shireen and Rickon had accepted the hot toddies her uncles were offering and Lya was nursing coffee with a generous shot of whiskey in it, and they snagged a loveseat and sat close together on it, Shireen leaning her back against Rickon's chest and Lyanna curling her body into Shireen's. The other guests were seated nearby in chairs and couches her uncles had arranged around their movie screen (a large expanse of white wall), sipping their own warm drinks and keeping themselves warm while they enjoyed the space battles and ancient dragons that came to life on the screen.

Brienne Tarth sat close by the trio and, while she blushed a bit and didn't _quite_ meet their eyes for a few moments after she noticed their obviously affectionate seating arrangement, she laughed sharply at Lyanna's muttered running commentary on the plot holes and liberties taken with the laws of physics in the movie, and shortly she was comfortable enough to add in her own incisive comment every once in a while.

Once the credits rolled, the party moved back inside, and Brienne shyly sat down near where the three of them curled up in front of the fire again, quietly continuing to join their conversation and providing keen insight into the storytelling and narrative of the movie, the differences between it and the book it had been adapted from, and, as the topic of conversation wandered, a number of other subjects.

It turned out, when they got around to small talk and asked her how she came to know Renly and Loras, that she was a writer of adventure stories (explaining in some measure her keen eye for storytelling and her relative confidence in speaking about it), and that Renly had been one of her earliest supporters; they'd met in college and he'd charmed her enough to convince her to share the stories she was writing then with him. He had insisted that she had talent, and helped her find publishers to whom to submit her work, and had been the friend she'd cried to through several rejections. Finally, she'd been picked up by a publisher; and Renly had bought first printings of all of her books. She shyly pointed to a bookshelf at the edge of the room, and a proudly displayed collection of books with her name on their spines.

At this, Lyanna took over the conversation and grilled Brienne for some time about the industry, how best to find publishers, and what connections might help one become established. Shireen knew Lyanna had aspirations to write, and that copyediting had been a career she pursued not only to pay the bills but also for some insight into the industry at large, but it was the first time she'd heard her speak about it to anyone but herself, and she was impressed equally with Lya's passion and with Brienne's cheer at being helpful.

In the end, Lya and Brienne exchanged numbers and promised to keep in touch, and Shireen, having loved talking to the big quiet woman, and fascinated by her astute mind, asked Renly for the loan of one of her books. He beamed and was quick to recommend one.

Throughout the evening, she'd stolen glances toward her dad and Sansa where they sat together, clearly deep in conversation and each seeming to genuinely be enjoying the other's company. She saw her dad awkwardly stutter once or twice, his jaw clenched and his eyes stormy, but each time Sansa seemed to soothe him with quiet words and the light of enjoyment came back into his eyes.

She couldn't even recall the last time Stannis had stayed so long at one of Renly's parties, much less seemed to actually be _enjoying_ himself; her heart swelled with affection for Sansa and that hope that she was nursing. She saw Rickon's face betraying some of the same feeling.

When it was time to leave, they said goodbye to the guests (besides Robert, who was asleep in a chair by the dark window), and Shireen stepped over to speak with Stannis for a moment. She let him know she'd be swinging by the house for more supplies before staying at Lya's again. Did she imagine the look of relief on his face when he heard she wouldn't be home tonight? He nodded distractedly and they planned to eat dinner together the following night. She tried not to think about Dad's possible plans too hard, and resolutely ignored the deep blush on Sansa's cheeks when she said goodnight.

Rickon hugged Sansa tightly, and whispered something in her ear, and she continued to blush but smiled brilliantly at him and nodded her head. Then they piled in the car and headed back to Shireen's and Stannis's apartment to pick up what she needed.

Though Rick and Lya had both _been_ to Shireen's home before, it felt different to have them both there, even for the short while they spent greeting Garin basking in his big tank while Shireen dumped her laundry, picked up new clothes and supplies, and packed a bag of food from the cabinets and fridge to share so that she could contribute rather than _completely_ depleting Lya's supplies. She fished in the bottom cabinet and grabbed a nice bottle of wine as well—"for tomorrow," she explained to Rick's eyebrow.

As they were pulling out of the dark parking lot (it wasn't far to Lyanna's but Shireen preferred to have her car on hand), she saw Dad's car pull in. In her rearview, a flash of auburn waves confirmed her earlier suspicions, but she said nothing. As much as she'd like to avoid thinking about _what_ Sansa and her dad might do in the apartment Shireen would be absent from, she couldn't help but be very glad for what she'd seen.

— — —


	12. LYANNA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just smut and another thunderstorm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pure smut, which will be continued into the next chapter

— — —

For the fifth night in a row, Lyanna was taking her lovers home. Well, technically Shireen was driving, but they were _coming_ home with _her_. She thought she'd never get tired of it. Despite growing up with four sisters, Lyanna had craved companionship as a child: Jory and Lyra had been closer to each other than to her, and Aly and Dacey had been practically grown by the time Lya was around.

In college she'd made friends and lovers fast and furiously, and upon graduating she'd moved to Storm's End and had to begin again. She'd made a fair few good friends here since, but none as close or treasured as the two with her now. She felt she could spend most days and nights with these two crazies who were so thoroughly stealing her heart, and never find the end of her delight in them. She knew they'd all probably have to spend a night or two apart sometime soon—the other two had their routines and lives in their own places, and Alys and Alyn planned to head back to the Westerlands tomorrow, so Rickon's place would be his again—but she was glad it wasn't tonight.

When they arrived, Bear pretended to be pitiful and required the attention of all three humans at once. Lya suspected he was getting accustomed to such spoiling, and that he might miss Shireen and Rickon almost as much as she would when the inevitable night apart finally came.

Once the great black lug had been satisfied, the three humans agreed it was late _(it was, but only Rick worked on Sunday, and not until late)_ and they prepared for bed; but there was a sense of anticipation in the air that made Lya think she likely wouldn't be getting to sleep soon. Rickon brushed his teeth and discarded his clothes for a comfy and soft pair of gray flannel pajama pants that rode low on his narrow hips, leaving the trail of auburn down from his navel visible under the expanse of his lean chest, and Lya remembered _exactly_ the feeling of his cock filling her, and _Shireen . . ._

Gods, Shireen came back into Lya's room, from freshening up in the bathroom, in a soft deep blue nightie with little straps and a ruffle that made Lyanna want to push the hem up over those long legs and pull that _sound,_ that beautiful _whine_ she'd made when Lya had had her mouth on her cunt and she'd wanted so badly to come, out of her . . . oh _gods,_ she needed to take a breath and cool herself a bit, seven _hells_.

Once again she was overcome with some feeling of . . . what, giddiness? It was _this,_ this amazing circumstance of having them both here, with her, in her bedroom, that was doing it. The fizz of excitement and months of pent-up sort-of hoping she felt around each of her lovers coupled with their half-lidded eyes and secretive smiles and the electricity waiting to spark to life at the first touch among them.

Shireen, her hair damp, sitting on Lya's bed: _the distant memory of Shireen in her bedroom—_ before, _when she'd still wondered if she'd ever get the chance to act on the desire that dripped through her in her presence, wondered if she was misinterpreting everything, wondered if Shireen was_ straight— _reading a book in the chair by the window, on a cloudy summer day, with Lya trying to concentrate on the story she'd been writing, trying_ not _to think of Shireen's lovely mouth, trying_ not _to wonder too hard whether she should just read the erotic thing aloud and see whether that did the trick._

Rick, grinning in the doorway: _Rick in her living room, still watching the movie she'd abandoned because his presence was just too_ much— _before she'd become certain that it was worth the risk to their friendship to declare herself with that mad speech about wanting him but wanting Shireen too, unable to know what it would bring—Rick acting as though he'd barely noticed her absence for four and a half minutes and her still-flushed cheeks and her too-deep breaths when she nonchalantly threw herself back down on the couch beside him—but, she realized now, gods, he_ had _noticed: he'd said as much the other night. She wondered if he'd thought about her the next morning, holding that gorgeous cock in his hand._

Rick's and Shireen's eyes turned to hers and she saw the same anticipation there (though she couldn't guarantee their thoughts were quite as smutty as hers), and they all drew together, climbing into her bed, moss green and black and white, surrounded by books, her own place now filled with the presence of them. _Thank the gods I splurged on a bed this big,_ she thought.

At first, they kissed. Lyanna could barely believe how much she _enjoyed_ kissing them. With her lovers before, Dryn and Del, Edda and Squirrel, the Braavosi Talea and red Raymund here in Storm's End, even shy Gella and Owen Norrey back home, whom she'd _only_ ever kissed, she felt that she'd always been impatient, wanting more, driving on; and perhaps it was that she was older now; perhaps the simple injunction from Shireen in the beginning to go _slowly;_ perhaps it was that same effect she suspected had driven Shireen to call for such a pace to begin with—the overwhelming nature of nearly every touch they shared, just because there were three bodies to keep track of rather than two—but she found herself now reveling in _every_ step, every kiss, every touch, every moment of wonder in the eyes of Rickon or Shireen beholding the pure sweetness they were making together.

She kissed Rickon, and there was a tenderness to it, an earnestness in how he held her face in his hand, as though he were trying to _say something_ with his lingering and his intensity; she kissed lovely Shireen, and again the unspoken _feeling_ of it almost overwhelmed her. Shireen had come past crying when Lyanna touched her scarred face now; instead she _smiled,_ wide and happy, and that was so delightful to Lyanna that she felt her own face split into an answering grin.

She watched her bewitching lovers kiss each other, and it stirred all the molten warmth in her body until it spilled down her spine and pooled in her cunt, and still she simmered in the joy of it, not feeling the need to go one step faster toward the pleasure building in the room.

Then their hands began to run along each other's bodies, teasing light touches along shoulders and ribs, necks, and down long expanses of skin and along backs, trailing goosebumps in their wakes. Trailing fingers up legs: Shireen's long ones to the edge of her blue ruffle, Rick's even longer ones with the lean muscles so defined through the thin flannel. Her own: their two different hands, both large but one delicate, running over her calves and thighs up to the edge of the little green shorts she'd worn a week ago, after they'd been rained out on their first date and wound up on her couch trying out their mouths and hands on each other for the first time.

Their bodies drew closer together, their breath coming heavier, their lips parting, their eyes widening with lust. Rick's lust was so much more obvious, by virtue of his different equipment, and she pondered, for not the first time in her life, the gendered differences in sexual response and how they probably affected people's perceptions of the whole process. While her mind was off on that tangent, she saw Shireen's eyes gleam and focus on her own, and she cocked her eyebrow. Probably it was good, whatever Shireen was thinking, and the heat pooled in her coiled tight in anticipation.

Shireen leaned near enough that Lya shivered as the light touches of their bodies stood her fine hairs on end. Hands brushing her collarbone, a breast nudging her ribs, Shireen's soft breath on her neck. Then a whisper in her ear.

"I think we should make him come first this time." Lya shivered at the feeling of her breath, and then put her mind back to work deciphering the words that had been spoken. _Ah,_ yes.

"Sure, love. That's good. Then we'll get more out of him later," she stumbled to respond. Shireen was _heady._

Rickon looked at the two of them like he wanted to ask what secrets they were whispering, but he too was overwhelmed with sexiness and unable to form words too well. Shireen placed her mouth below his ear, as if to whisper to him, too; but then she kissed, sucked, ran her tongue down his neck, and Lya followed her lead. She kissed Rick's collarbone, touched his ribs and his back, pushed her hands slowly along his skin.

His eyes blackened and they were rewarded with that long low moan he was so free with, that had no right to cause her cunt to clench as it did, and they slowly moved _down,_ kissing his abdomen, his belly, his hips where they jutted out above the line of his pants. He threw his head back and they pushed him back into the pillows, gently, and Lya looked up into his face as she and Shireen each grabbed his flannel pants by the waistband and pulled them down. Rick raised his hips for them and they pushed them off over his feet and he was naked before them, auburn curls framing his long cock, making it stand out, enticing.

Lyanna mentally compared it to the cocks she'd seen before, which were not _that_ numerous; Dryn's was shorter and wider, a little more straight, and darker; Raymund's similarly long but more curved; Del's smaller in both directions, though he'd known what to do with it well enough. The variety pleased her, but Rickon's, in this moment anyway, was the most beautiful of them, and she remembered its softness and longed to feel it on her palm again.

So she looked at Shireen, and together they slid their hands up the insides of his thighs again, slowly, keeping pace, until they met just below the joining of his legs. They stopped there, catching on each other, drawing it out for Rick, and he moaned again, his hands brushing their shoulders, his eyes so wide and his expression wild and tender at once. They brushed their hands upward, slowly, brushing his balls so lightly, winding up and around his cock from both sides, their fingers tangling together around it.

Lya forgot the pace and what exactly she was trying to do for a moment, struck as if by lightning by the exquisite beauty of her hand entwined with Shireen's around Rickon's cock. Shireen moved them, stroking up. Her face was close to Lya's now, and both were looking closely, entranced. She turned her head, caught Lyanna's eye, smiled impishly, and _licked her lips._ It looked so natural, and once again Lyanna had to wonder _how_ Shireen had hidden this whole vocabulary of sex (looks, winks, lips, _words_ ) during their entire friendship. Now that she'd become Shireen's lover, a whole world of sexiness had been opened to her, and she _relished_ it.

_Right. Lips. Focus, Lya._ She followed Shireen's lead, moving her head closer to Rick's cock, which was bolt upright and pointing up his body, toward his blown-pupils face and slack mouth. Their mouths _breathed_ on him, and his cock twitched, unable to contain itself. Rick moaned again, muttering, moaning, and he grew louder when their tongues licked him, quick darts and soft kisses, and then longer strokes of tongues, rasping from root to tip, the two of them in concert, their mouths practically meeting around the curve of his cock.

Partly to please him, and partly to feed her own need to _know_ every sensation, she raised her other hand underneath the cock she was licking and rolled the pads of her fingers along his balls, back and forth, gently, in the rhythm of their mouths.

The still darkness outside was a counterpoint to the rapid increase in Rick's breathing, to his panting words, belatedly stuttering into being: "You, oh, gods, Shir, Lya, you're . . . _gods_ , that's so lovely . . . you're, I'm, I'm, you're going to make me come if you keep that up . . . is . . . I . . . is that what you want? Because . . . _oh,_ _gods_ . . ."

Shireen hummed, which buzzed through Rickon's cock and into Lyanna's mouth and felt strange and sweet. Rick gasped. Without taking her mouth off of him, she formed words, pressing them into his smooth soft skin.

"We do. We want you to _come,_ Rickon. Right. Lya?"

Lya couldn't nod easily, so she hummed her agreement back. He gasped again.

"Don't worry. We'll let you come again later if you're _good._ " She pressed the words into his cock as Shir had done, along with a smirk that Shireen returned.

Rick choked a little, and, gods bless his intrepid soul, fought out words.

"I can . . . _oh,_ I can be good, I . . . _oh, gods, oh, fuck, oh, oh_ . . ."

He trailed off into quiet for a tiny moment and then she felt the tightening under the fingers of her hand and as his throat opened to loose that bellow, Shireen— _gods,_ demure Shireen—slipped her mouth over the head of his cock to catch the pearly semen just in time and _sucked,_ her lips closing just where the foreskin was pulled back. His yell went up in pitch just a little and he came in jagged surges, Lya licking and rolling her fingers, Shireen sucking gently, until he was done. Lya let go just in time to see the delicate motion of Shireen's throat as she swallowed, letting go of his cock, wiping her mouth gracefully with the back of her hand, and grinning.

Lya grinned back, hard, and ran her hands up Rick's body, soothing. She couldn't look away from Shireen's face, which was particularly . . . _hungry_ just now.

She was startled out of the lock of Shireen's gaze by a bright flash of lightning—the kind that splits the night open—and the sudden boom of thunder on its heels, and then . . . it seemed as though the lightning had torn a hole in some heavenly reservoir and its contents were all pouring down at once outside, flooding the sky. In the two years and a season Lyanna had been here, she still hadn't entirely become accustomed to this habit of the Stormlands', to simply pour down an oceanic torrent with no warning but a clap about the head.

They smiled at each other in the flashes of light and the noise of the downpour, and she could feel the thoughts of the other two following the same path as hers, remembering the lovely aftermath of being caught in the storm a week ago that had first brought them here, together, in her living room.

She remembered how they'd stared when she'd stripped down to her underwear, and the confidence those blushing faces had given her; Rick shirtless, wet hair slick to his neck; Shireen in Lyanna's dress, _gods,_ much shorter on her body with such long legs, and her wet black hair contrasting against her face; _knowing_ that Rick was bare under Dacey's shorts, that Shireen was _wearing_ her own yellow underwear that she'd washed, and then, yeah, definitely worn the next day. Those same ones that . . . mhmmm.

The feeling of electricity and arousal in the air curled around her. Lightning flashed and thunder roared again. Lyanna moved on impulse to kiss Shireen again, that yank of her gaze acting on Lya's body. She tasted the salty tang of Rickon on Shireen's lips. She caressed her with both hands: her lovely scarred face, her shoulders, her long arms, her slender neck. Shireen responded, touching Lyanna with lovely feathery touches down her arms, her back, cupping her ass and brushing the sides of her legs. Rickon mumbled encouragement, still reviving.

And then Shireen's big eyes, so deep and blue, on her face, asking a question. _What is it?_ She was overwhelmed with sensation. "Yes, love?" she got out over the din of pouring rain.

"I want to . . . can I try? With my mouth, uh . . ." her mouth was kissing Lya's skin, right now, which was delicious, but she was asking about something else . . . her kisses trailed downward. Lyanna's eyes widened, her pulse loud. Oh. _Yes._

"Oh, love, _yes_ . . ." she struggled to push out words again. Thunder, more distant.

"It's just that . . . I'm not very . . . well. I don't _really_ know what I'm doing . . ." Shireen was red, across three-quarters of her face, and Lyanna wanted to _hold_ her except she also _really_ wanted to feel Shir's mouth on her cunt now. She gasped at the contact of lips on her inner thighs. Her body buzzed. Lightning flashed again and the thunderclap was close and loud this time.

"Shir, love, you are lovely, you already feel so good, your lips on me feel fucking _divine,_ love," she gasped out. Fuck, she was losing her ability to make sense. _"Please,"_ she breathed. Shireen's eyes darkened. "I'll help you."

Shireen, gods fucking bless her, nodded slightly, flickers of light on her face, and _kept kissing_ , up and up Lya's thighs, closer to the fucking shorts that now she couldn't _stand_ the fact she was still wearing, and then, her fingers, touching, pushing up, slipping under the edges of the fucking shorts, teasing along. Lyanna must have grunted in annoyance, because Shir looked up and Rickon, who was much more conscious now and running his big hands along the skin of both his lovers, looked concerned.

Lyanna mastered just enough will to pull first the stupid shirt, and then the offending shorts, off, _off,_ as quickly as she could, panting, her bed vibrating with a roll of thunder. Rick's pupils blew back out, looking at her tits and the curve of her ass; Shireen went redder, and Lyanna belatedly remembered that, yes, she'd put on _those,_ the little yellow boyshorts that had taken on so much more meaning in her wardrobe now that they'd been _on_ Shireen, touching her sacred cunt, hugging her glorious ass. She smiled, a little sheepish but mostly fucking _aroused_ as shit, and Shireen _touched_ them.

Shir spoke quietly as she ran her hands around Lyanna's legs and up her ass and down across her cunt from outside the precious yellow panties. "These were . . . I _wore_ these, Lya," Rickon's eyes got bigger, realizing, "You, you _lent_ me these and now they're _on you_ and, gods, _Lya . . ._ " Another flash, boom.

Yes. This was so lovely. She couldn't fucking _speak,_ so she just moaned, as Shir's fingers trailed up the outside of those yellow things, along the seam of the lips of her cunt (she knew they were wet through now, Shireen's fingers would feel it, oh _gods_ ), she purred and moaned, and _squirmed._ She could see the confidence blooming on Shir's face with every sound and motion, so she figured it was okay if she couldn't speak clearly anymore over the rain.

Rick's hands found her breasts as Shireen slid farther downwards, and he swirled slow circles around them, spiraling in, as Shireen _finally_ hooked her fingers into the boyshorts and pulled them down, Lya arching her body, partly out of helpfulness and partly out of pure fucking _need_ to get her cunt closer to Shir's fingers and mouth. Rickon and Shireen both moaned, just a little, at the motion, and Lya took a second to just fucking _appreciate_ how fucking responsive they all were to each other before Shireen's hands were on her again, trailing up her thighs, curling back so that the back of her knuckle bent and stroked up that seam in the middle of her, _gods,_ her _cunt_ again, skin on bare cunt this time, gods, _gods . . ._

Her hands wanted to grasp something tightly. For the moment, she settled on Rick, who was half-lying now, face open, eyes flashing in the light of the storm, stretched out beside her, propped on one arm with the fingers of the other trailing around her breast. Her hands shot up and grabbed his hand, hard, and he closed his big fingers around both her hands and _gods_ , that was _perfect_ so she nodded at him and dragged his hand up with hers above her head until he saw what she was after and _held_ them there, gently but _gods, yes_ , firmly and _oh, gods,_ Shireen bent her head and slowly, tentatively _licked_ along the center of her cunt, following the path of her knuckle and Lya keened and tried to keep her hips from pressing up into Shireen's face.

She found, somehow, a couple of words. "Oh yes, _yes,_ love, _oh_ . . ." over the roar of the storm. Not articulate, but enough to keep her _doing that,_ anyway. Shireen licked stripes up her cunt, from the deep well up her lips to the hood of her clit, and she _knew_ now, remembered what Lyanna liked, gods, and her tongue rolled right over Lya's clit with not quite enough pressure, so Lyanna grunted, "just a little harder, love," and then, _oh, fuck, gods,_ it was _perfect_ and she rode the slow swell of oncoming tidal wave, rocking her hips so gently, so she wouldn't jostle Shireen's face, but undulating with the rhythm of the orgasm rising from her deep core into her cunt, up into her clit and then out, radiating, tingling down and up and out, and Lyanna heard herself yelling, "Yes, oh, _Shireen,_ yes, _perfect, yes!_ " The lightning in her veins punctuated by lightning in the pouring sky. Panting and squirming and riding it, riding it, still keening, Shireen still licking her, not stopping, riding it until it became softer, softer, and slowed. She could still feel the fire flowing out her fingers and toes but it was like rolling smoke now, slow and languid and fine.

Shireen looked up and saw Rick's hand holding Lyanna's and looked surprised, but grinned, and Lya stretched her body and released herself from Rick's hold, grinning back at both of them and high as _fuck_ still on that wave. Thunder boomed. She tried to roll over but her muscles weren't really responding yet and she only plowed herself into the mattress, still grinning. She heard murmurs and looked up to see Rick hungrily kissing Shireen, _tasting_ Lyanna on her, responding with a low moan. She couldn't resist meddling just a little, so into the quiet after a loud thunderclap she mumbled, "Be _good_ , Rick," and was rewarded with the sight of him flushing red and his eyes wide. Shireen grinned like a flash and looked to Rickon.

She nodded to whatever he'd said, and he slowly trailed his hands up the outsides of her thighs, so close to where Lya's head lay useless on the mattress, and when he reached that entrancing dark blue ruffle, he pushed upwards, pulling the pretty nightie up and off and leaving those lovely perfect tits and pretty little lacy gray panties and long arms and legs and _skin_ , oh, Shireen was so _beautiful._ The lightning illuminated her skin. She could say so, if she tried. "You're beautiful," she mumbled. "You're so _fucking_ beautiful," a little louder over the roar, and Shireen's eyes were wide and soft, like she didn't quite believe it but she'd never deny Lyanna the right to say it.

Rickon nodded solemnly, "You're both fucking exquisite, my loves," he whispered, "Gods, Lyanna, watching you come, I can't fucking get enough of this; fuck, gods, oh Shir, I want to see you come too, I've fucking got to see that, please, let me . . ." he trailed off, kissing her, her lips, softly, her face, reverently, her neck, gentle and then a little rough, biting playfully, her arm, her ribs, her breast, her nipple, licking that, sucking it just a little, feeling Shireen squirm and moan and kissing down the front of her, down to her belly button, in, around, down farther, Shireen's eyes wide, watching Rick, her hand groping for Lya, holding her fingers gently.

Lya pulled Shir's hand to her mouth and kissed it, more alive now but watching, wanting to see written on Shireen's face what Rickon's mouth was doing. His hands were on the insides of her thighs now, stroking upwards, and his mouth descended over her pubic bone and down into the valley between her thighs, kissing softly. Shireen already squirmed, wanting, needing more, and her breaths came ragged, her eyes flashing in the bursts of lightning.

Her fingers pushed, a little impatiently, down, at the line of grey lace over her hips, and Rickon caught on, pulling with his fingers down past his face, keeping his mouth there, breathing, trailing little kisses. He was pushing them blindly down Shireen's long legs, so Lya helped, pulling them off her feet, the booms of thunder and the roar of rain in her ears.

Rickon didn't tease her too long, and his fingers slid into her warmth, stroking her cunt while his mouth still kissed it; kissed the hood of her clit and the lips beneath it, while his fingers pushed between those lips to trail up and down. When Shir pushed her hips toward him, he acquiesced and pushed his two fingers inside her, and his mouth opened and he laved his tongue along her cunt.

Shir winced and tensed once when he played it right over her clit; he caught it, and changed his pattern to circle it, and she relaxed into it and moaned. Lya took Shir's hand in her own again—the one under her—and ran her free hand experimentally up and down Shireen's chest and ribs and belly. She seemed to like it fine at first, but when Lya gentled her touch to that feather-light one that Shir liked to use on them, she moaned again, so Lya repeated that, petting all she could reach of Shireen's body so lightly while Rick's fingers rubbed at that magic spot (she wondered idly if hers and Shir's were in similar or very different places) and his tongue circled and circled in a rhythm punctuated by flashes and booms.

Shireen was clearly climbing up to a precipice over which she would shortly fall. Her body was taut, her breath shallow, and her moans were fucking pure _sex,_ gods. Her left hand was fisted in Rickon's hair, gripping but not pulling, and her right one tightened on Lya's. Then she let out a beautiful keening, and hummed, " _yes, yes, yes, yesyes_ . . ." Then, a flash of lightning so bright it lit the whole room lit up: her body arched and her pitch and volume increased: " _Yes, yes, yes, YES, YES!_ " over the crash of thunder shaking the bed, and then "Oh, gods, _GODS, RICKON!_ "

He slowed, carefully continuing the pattern, but lightly, gently, not wanting to overwhelm her sensitized clit, and Shireen rode that orgasm for a moment more before shuddering to a stop and moving away from his mouth, pulling him up, kissing his sloppy face. As he crawled up Lya could see his cock, so hard again, pointing its eager face toward Shireen.

— — —


	13. RICKON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sweet and smutty end to Smith's Day weekend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are just two more chapters: a hefty conclusion, and an epilogue
> 
> Please tell me what you think?

— — —

Gods, Rickon thought, he could watch these women come all night. Sure, his cock was straining toward Shireen, was hyperaware of Lyanna to the left of him, _wanted_ to _plunge_ itself into _someone,_ but _fuck,_ making Shireen come with his tongue and fingers had been amazing and he was humming with satisfaction over that. Watching Shireen make Lyanna come with _her_ tongue had been just as good. And he wasn't even _trying_ to think about before _that,_ when _both_ of their fucking beautiful _mouths_ had been on his fucking _cock,_ Mother, Maiden, Crone. The feeling was a little delirious. The roar of rain pouring outside, the rolls of thunder and bright flashes of lightning crackling through the dim room, added to the otherworldly feeling.

Shireen was breathing heavily, dazed a little, but still she was kissing him, stroking him with her hands, up and down his arms, across his shoulders, behind his neck, and Lyanna was touching him too, running her fingers up his back and the leg she could reach, and she was smiling, _smirking,_ her eyes glinting with lust and some secret glimmer he couldn't interpret. Then he remembered the words she'd spoken directly into his cock, _We'll let you come again later if you're good._ Fuck, his cock was twitching just from recalling those words, and Lya smiled broader as though she could read the echo of her words in his thoughts.

Shireen was rocking her body against him now, her breasts gently touching his bare chest, her hips rolling up toward him, and then Lyanna leaned in and whispered in Shireen's ear, and he shivered with anticipation; she returned her glittering gaze to him and he held his breath for a second. Thunder; a brilliant flash. Then, Lya spoke.

"Rick, I think . . . I think you've been _very good,_ " she purred, emphasizing, touching him, and heat trickled up his spine. "D'you . . . would you like to fuck Shireen now?" her frank smile and Shireen's dark eyes on him.

"Ohhh, gods, fuck yes, _fuck yes_ of course I'd like to . . . Shireen, may I? Fuck you?" He got out. He _liked_ this, deeply, he _loved_ asking them, the conferences of whispers, the _permission_ he was being given, it put him breathing harder (even though he'd _also_ enjoyed holding Lya's hands, just so, a little tightly, while Shireen had made her come, _hmmm . . ._ ), and he wanted them to _know,_ so he let the whimper he was holding in out, quietly, and added, " _please?_ "

Shireen's eyes were almost black and she nodded, tongue-tied, then gasped, politely, " _Yes,_ please," smiling with her dark gaze; and then Lyanna _moved_ him, pushed him into Shireen just slightly, climbing to her knees behind him, wrapping herself around his back and he could feel her pretty tits resting against him, her nipples hard and brushing him softly, her warm abdomen flush against his lower back, her legs wrapping around his hips.

Shireen was below him and arching up into him still, gently, rolling. His knees were between her legs, and his cock, _gods, her cunt_ that he could still taste on his tongue was right there, his cock was inches away, she was straining toward him, Lyanna was pushing him gently, and he poured himself forward, slowly, toward her. Touched her with his cock, _rubbed_ it up her, flashing to the memory of her holding it in her hand, _pushing it_ up and down _Lya's_ _cunt_ on Thursday in front of the fire, _gods_ , he'd come too soon if he kept thinking of _that._ For a moment he concentrated on the sound of the downpour, and rocked in a rhythm with Shireen.

The two of them rubbed themselves together, and Lya, watching over his shoulder, hummed approval and rolled her own body against his back. Gods, _how, fucking_ how _is this my life?_ He couldn't help but marvel from between these two fucking gorgeous women who _wanted_ him, who wanted each other and wanted _him_ and this was _so good—so fucking good,_ that he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe and calm himself, just a little. Thunder. Crackling sizzles of lightning, syncopated from the two windows.

Then Lya hummed again and _rolled_ against him, _pushing_ with her hips and he caught her intent and Shireen's eye, Shireen whose hands were touching his neck, his shoulders, gently, encouraging, whose breath was stuttering, who _wanted_ him, wanted his _cock,_ _gods_ ; and moved his cock into the right place and let Lyanna _push him into_ Shireen, gods, _gods, so tight, so warm, so . . . fuck._ Shireen moaned low and rocked up against him, her gaze so dark and so . . . open? Something real and soft was in her gaze, too. And he began to move.

It was a little more work, pushing into Shireen with Lyanna's weight against his back, but it was manageable. He leaned forward, into Shireen, a little, and felt Lyanna lean with him, draped over his back. She pushed herself up a little with her knees, and then she was . . . kinda, _riding_ him? And _oh._ Oh _gods,_ he could feel her _cunt,_ just, fucking _splayed_ against the small of his back, _fuck,_ warm and wet and small and _riding_ him with the rhythm of him thrusting into Shireen. Fuck.

Shireen moaned; he could see he'd hit a good spot, she was flushed and her gaze was unfocusing, and he tried to hit the same spot again, and missed; but on the next thrust he got it and was rewarded with that low sound, her eyes rolling back, her body rolling up toward him, and Lya reached around his chest to Shireen's fucking breasts and held them in her hands, rolled her thumbs up Shir's nipples, and Shireen gasped and moaned _more_ ; and Rick realized part of what her body was rolling upward toward him reaching for was the contact between his pubic bone and . . . whatever it was hitting, her clit or just above it, maybe? So he tried to _push_ down a little more the next time and gods, Lya's cunt was leaving a slick trail along his back and this was _all so much._ He felt his balls begin to tighten and tried to hold on for a minute.

Shireen began to shudder, tense, shudder; a few more thrusts, and finally she cried out " _Yes! Rick,_ gods, it's so good, so _good, gods, yes!_ " And fuck, _fuck, gods,_ the wet heat of her became impossibly _tight,_ gripping his cock, practically enough to push it back out, and he _pushed_ into her as she shuddered, once, twice, three more times as she cried out more, " _yes!_ " and " _gods,_ " and " _Rick!_ " and then he felt it overcoming him and he yelled, pushing more, holding on to his control just enough to feel himself coming, _coming inside Shireen_ and just as he was losing it, about to fall down onto her, under the weight of Lya, he felt _Lya_ fucking tense and shake, rocking harder into him, and she quietly whimpered, " _Yes, fuck, gods,_ " and _came_ on his fucking _back_ and then they all fell.

Lya rolled off him, still shaking, and then he rolled out of and off Shireen, both of them making little regretful sounds at the loss, kissing her, gently, touching her face. And then turning to kiss Lya with a laugh of surprise for her fucking incredible orgasmic talent; and Shireen curled into his left side, holding him, and Lya softly into his right and gods, fuck, _this_ was fucking _perfect_ and he could die from happiness and satisfaction. Rain still poured down. Thunder rolled more gently, more distant, the storm moving off. Lightning lit the windows, the soft thunder following more slowly.

They lay, panting, sticking sweatily against each other, for a while. Sweat, semen, and the various fluids of their lovemaking cooled against his skin. He mumbled sweet words at them, _fucking amazing_ and _beautiful_ and _felt so good,_ and they smiled contented smiles, murmuring sweetness back at him, Lya's expression sharp and proud and Shireen's hazy and tired.

Lya eventually groaned, sat up, and rolled herself off the bed. He hated it, but a moment later he pulled away from Shireen and did the same: he needed a rinse. He passed Lya coming back with warm wet cloths and she smirked when he mumbled about rinsing off and said, "Go wash your lovers off both sides of you, Rick, I'll take care of Shireen," and grinned wider walking back to the bed.

He heard Shir sleepily mumbling and Lya, soothing, before he turned on the shower, hot, and stepped under it long enough to move the sweat and stickiness off him. He pulled the towel he'd been using since Wednesday from the rack, got himself passably dry, and returned to the bed.

Lyanna was tucked into Shireen's side, and Shir was quiet, her breathing even, her eyes closed; he climbed in on the other side, cocooning Lya between them, pulled a blanket up around him, and sighed with contentment as Lya quietly kissed his chest goodnight, mumbling and closing her eyes too.

— — —

Sunlight woke him. Sunlight, streaming through the tops of the tall windows, the two faces in front of him glowing in the brightness, soft chocolate dark and shiny crow black hair soaking up light, pale skin and grey scaly scars and warmer-but-still-pale skin and black and brown lashes soft on closed eyes. Lyanna's face was upturned toward his, her head practically tucked under his chin; Shireen's was above and behind hers, the bottom half of it obscured by waves of Lyanna's hair.

It wasn't early, but they'd managed not to sleep the morning away this time, and a current of understated anticipation ran through him at the thought of being able to spend most of the day with his lovers, with nowhere else to be until evening.

He stretched, his arms reaching over the edge of the bed, his toes curling down far below, and slowly inched his way out of the fucking comfortable bed again, due to his stupid bladder again, and when he padded back into the room quietly, Shireen's eyes were blinking at him in the brightness of the room. He sat on the bed, looking at the two women in it, so different, so _fucking_ beautiful, and at the cozy space Lya slept in every night, into which she'd invited them. Bookshelves everywhere, as if there weren't enough in the living room; a cozy green chair by the window; her big comfortable bed, white and black and green, the wood floor and the white curtains and the sunshine.

Shireen roused, sitting up and stretching, unselfconscious in her nakedness, the fucking colors of her in the sunny room: milky skin, inky hair, dark rosy nipples, silvery scars, and her eyes so fucking blue, so deep—and she smiled at him, and it was the _best,_ the _best_ thing; his heart just _swelled_ to see it, a grin breaking over his own face and he just wanted to kiss her and hold her and so he did: he moved over to her side of the bed and just wrapped his arms around her and held her, kissed her cheek, her scars, her mouth, just softly.

They sat like that awhile, their bodies warm against each other, quiet, watching Lya sleep. Eventually, Lya stirred, rolling and groaning, cracking open her eyes and glaring for a moment, until she was more fully awake; then a smile broke out on her face, seeing them, a soft one, and she sat up and scooted over to them, snuggling against their sides, nuzzling her face between them, giggling. They both threw their arms around her, and Rick was so fucking content, right then, in the morning light with these two women.

Lya mumbled about breakfast, so they threw on clothes—well, the things they'd worn only briefly the night before, not trying this time to pretend they didn't want to take them off again soon—and they went to the kitchen to scrounge something up; eventually Lyanna declared it to be her turn and turned out some delicious eggy toast and produced blackberry syrup from somewhere in the depths of her fridge. She drank her coffee and scowled at them amicably as they declined it. Bear glowered until Lya gave him treats and they all reassured him with pets; then he slunk off to the living room and climbed his tree.

After breakfast, they sat on the couch for a bit, savoring this lovely day, on which none of them had to run off immediately, and they could just _be_ together for a while. Shireen wasn't expected anywhere until dinner with Stannis. Rick did have to work the late shift, but not until after sundown; Alyn and Alys were leaving today, but they'd promised to leave his spare key with Arya, and they had their lunch with Mhaegen and Barra before they left, so he'd not made any plan to try to meet with them. He knew Arya would update him on anything important, anyway.

Rickon sat with Shireen's back nestled against his bare chest, and Lyanna's against Shireen, his legs stretched out, one behind them on the couch and one splayed out to the floor. At first they just sank into each other wordlessly, snuggling as they had after waking; then Shireen spoke, a little hesitantly, her voice like honey in the buzzing sunshine.

"Gods, I _love_ this, I _love_ being with you both, it's so fucking _wonderful._ I keep thinking I can't just abandon Dad, I have to go home, and probably I'll do that tonight, be responsible, sleep in my own bed, but part of me just can't imagine, like, letting go of you two for any amount of time at all . . . just, you're _incredible,_ both of you, gods, I just, I hope you _know_ . . ."

Rick hummed with happiness. Shireen was such a sincere person, quiet but forthright when she spoke, and this declaration of . . . feeling, of her enjoyment in them, filled his heart with hope and delight. He'd kept thinking, since this began with the two of them, how he couldn't bear for it to end; how attached he was to them, and so he breathed his feelings into the air for them: "Yeah. Shir, I, yeah, we . . . I am _so so_ happy, in this, with you, Shir, with you, Lya, I can't . . . I already feel like I don't, fuck, I don't make sense any other way? Like, this is just . . . how I want to be all the time now. With you."

Was he making any sense? Shireen nuzzled into his shoulder, nodding. Lyanna half-turned so she could see both their faces, her eyes sharp and glittery. She looked thoughtful.

"I am . . . I am all in on this with you guys," she said earnestly. "I have kinda . . . had a habit of not being with anyone for all that long, mostly, in the past," her smile was rueful, "And I don't want to let you assume that's just what I'm _like_ or whatever. I mean. I want this to last. To work, if we can make it work, I want to _be_ with you and not have any kind of . . . expiration date. This is the fucking _best_ thing. I know it's new and it's novel and fucking exciting and I _am_ fucking excited but I feel, like . . . also, real fucking serious." Her sharp smile was fiery now. "Also, I think you're both incredible."

Shireen picked up the thread. "It will probably . . . uh, take some work, to balance our feelings and our time and not overwhelm each other and not, uh, make anyone feel left out or anything or . . ." she was rushing through her words, trying to think of potential problems and solve them by being prepared, probably. He grinned at her. She was right though.

"Yeah, uh. I was thinking about that, like . . . do I kiss one of you, when the other's not there? It feels wrong not to, but it also feels weird, like, leaving someone out?"

Lyanna nodded and grinned. "Well, that's a good starting point. I think maybe, like, we should all be affectionate with each other, because, like, that's what we feel? Whenever we feel it? And then, maybe, we could like . . . take a while to _build_ us, as a thing, sex-wise, before we like, have sex in pairs?" She paused, looking at them, gauging. "Like, if one of you goes out of town or something, I'm not going to like, sit by the other one and be celibate the whole time I don't think," she grinned, "but let's like . . . give it a little while and really, uh, talk through our _feelings_ about it or some shit, whenever it does, um, happen?"

Shireen was nodding eagerly. "Yeah. Yeah," she nodded once more. "That sounds right. Like, we can't expect to do _every_ thing we do, hanging out or hugging or sex or taxes or whatever, all together; and some of that will end up with two of us," she said more slowly, "and that's good, right, yes . . . but we keep, um, coming back together, uh, like, checking in to make sure it's comfortable? That it's not weird to anyone, and we all feel, like, included, and . . ." she trailed off.

Rick took a deep breath, and pulled his feelings up to his mouth and spoke: "And _loved._ Right? Because I think that's . . . I mean, I don't want to make anybody feel like they have to feel a certain way, um, at _all,_ but I, I mean; I _love_ you. Both of you." There it was; he couldn't unsay it now, so hopefully he hadn't freaked them out.

Lyanna's eyes were serious; her grin was gone but she looked . . . meditative? She looked into his eyes as she spoke, almost rueful, "Fucking _yes._ I love you. It's _crazy_ how easy that is to say. I've only said it to one lover before, and I wouldn't, uh, fucking, say it if I didn't mean it." She'd turned to include Shireen. "Yeah, and I _definitely_ mean both of you."

Shireen _laughed,_ musically, beautifully, and her eyes filled with tears, in that way she had, of producing just enough tears to make her eyes brim with them but not spill over, and she whispered it: "I love you too. _Of course_. I don't feel at all like I _have_ to feel that way, because you've declared it. I feel _relieved,_ like I can finally say it, which is funny because I still feel like this is really new and I've . . . I've only said it once, too . . . to a partner I mean, and it was . . . this is, I, gods, this is _more_ , this is . . . I want this _so bad._ " She was grinning now, and the change in the shape of her face made her tears fall down her smiling cheeks. "I love you both _so much._ "

Rick felt as though he could burst. He wrapped his arms around them both, and smiled, as wide as he could, and _loved_ them. Just _felt_ it and _loved_ feeling it and _gods,_ this was real, somehow.

— — —

After that they sat quiet again for a while, just fucking _immersed_ in the feelings of love and comfort they'd acknowledged, and in the sunshine. The angle of the light had moved past vertical now, into afternoon brightness that lit up the east side of the room. Rick retrieved his sketchpad and drew bits of the scene, trying to get that light right.

Eventually, his phone chirped from where it rested on the table, and he sighed and shifted to grab it and see whether Arya had anything important to pass along. Shireen's went a minute later, and she flopped back down next to him as he read what Arya had sent. Lya just stroked Bear, who'd deigned to join them on the couch when they were still enough, and leaned against Rick.

> Arya: Okay, Rick, A&A have cleared out of your place, we are taking them to the train now
> 
> Arya: So you can take ownership of your place again, thanks again from them
> 
> Arya: We had a good lunch with Barra, good to see the kid
> 
> Rickon: Okay, thanks for letting me know
> 
> Rickon: Gen holding up okay?
> 
> Arya: Yeah, he's okay. Lot of social interaction for the past few days, he probably needs to hibernate
> 
> Rickon: Well, make the man a damn cave then, sister
> 
> Arya: Don't worry I'm ahead of you, we've got beer and takeout and we are BARRING THE DOOR
> 
> Rickon: I will try not to contact tonight unless something is seriously going down
> 
> Arya: Thanks bud. How's things with your women?
> 
> Rickon: Fucking awesome. They love me. I love them. They love each other. It is fucking great
> 
> Arya: Well, shit! Wish I'd had the guts to tell Gen that after ... two weeks? Shit, dude, you sure?
> 
> Rickon: HELLS yes
> 
> Arya: Okay man. Good on you then
> 
> Arya: Btw, I'm pretty sure Sansa went home with STANNIS last night, so
> 
> Rickon: No shit? Thought it was going there
> 
> Arya: Did NOT see that one coming
> 
> Arya: I know it's a double standard, but I choose not to blow up the group chat with this news yet
> 
> Arya: I figured you could take it, and your news was weird enough that I wanted reactions
> 
> Arya: Not that STANNIS BARATHEON isn't a fucking piece of information that would warrant reactions, but
> 
> Arya: Well, you know. I want to go easy on Sans, is all
> 
> Rickon: I am really proud of you Arya
> 
> Rickon: Didn't know you had it in you :D
> 
> Rickon: Nah, but srsly, that's cool and sweet and I'd love you to go easy on me but Sansi deserves it more
> 
> Rickon: So, wait, is she still with him? Should I warn Shireen?
> 
> Arya: Nah, she came back earlier, kinda mum but she looked like she had a good time, ha, gods, trying not to think too hard about that
> 
> Arya: Anyway, she went to the coffeeshop and said she needed to call Margie and check in, run some numbers, make some plans
> 
> Arya: You know, nervous energy Sans
> 
> Rickon: Gotcha

Shireen had been texting someone on her phone and was still typing when Rick put his down. Her face was serious and engaged, so he just waited, and Lya winked at him and hugged him. After a minute, Shir looked up, smiling, with those brimming tears in her eyes again.

"Look, guys," she whispered, and scrolled up on her phone through the conversation she'd just had with Gendry, handing the phone to Rickon. Lyanna read over his shoulder.

> Gendry: Hey, Shir, Alyn and Alys are leaving
> 
> Gendry: But they wanted me to say goodbye and thanks to you
> 
> Gendry: Can I give them your contact info?
> 
> Shireen: Oh! Yes, of course. I should have done that already
> 
> Shireen: Tell them it was really great to get to meet them and to keep in touch please
> 
> Gendry: Will do
> 
> Shireen: How was lunch?
> 
> Gendry: It was good I think. Barra's a good kid. Alyn and Alys were real nice with her
> 
> Gendry: We all kinda commiserated with Mhaegen a bit. Think she might actually like me better now that she's met more of us
> 
> Gendry: Like it got less weird for me to be Barra's brother even though I'm practically Mhaegen's age now that there's a continuum in between?
> 
> Shireen: Yeah, I get that
> 
> Gendry: This is why I've got to convince Mya and Bella to visit. I think Mhaegen would really like them actually (even tho they are both older than me)
> 
> Shireen: Well I hope that happens. I'd really love to meet them too; but I'll probably just go with you to see them if not :)
> 
> Gendry: Definitely
> 
> Gendry: Shireen, uh, thanks for everything this week
> 
> Gendry: Like, speaking up for us and whatever magic you worked on your dad
> 
> Shireen: Well, no problem of course but I can't take credit for Dad; I told you what went down at family dinner and that's literally ALL I've said to him about it
> 
> Gendry: It seems to have really changed his mind about us, though
> 
> Gendry: He offered me legal advice and Alyn and Alys said them too
> 
> Shireen: Oh, shit, I didn't know he'd talked to you too; I was there when he approached A&A
> 
> Gendry: And he was like ... reasonable about it? Like, didn't try to TELL me to do anything, just, like, here's my info if you need it kinda thing? Which was a relief
> 
> Shireen: Yeah. Dad's not likely to push unless he thinks someone's shirking their DUTY
> 
> Shireen: Which would be Robert in this situation
> 
> Gendry: Alys said she really liked that he gave them BOTH business cards
> 
> Gendry: She says a lot of times people treat them as if they are one person, and, you know they are close, but I can see how that would get annoying anyway
> 
> Shireen: Wow good point. Guess a lot of twins have to put up with that
> 
> Gendry: Probably
> 
> Gendry: Anyway, thanks for, uh, like being nice
> 
> Gendry: I mean you are starting to really feel like my family and I wanted you to know that
> 
> Shireen: Oh! Yeah, well I AM your family but I'd like to be the kind you LIKE, so, uh, thanks yourself Gen
> 
> Gendry: Okay gonna go hide now :)
> 
> Shireen: Have fun :)

When they looked up her eyes were still shining.

"Wow, Shir. That's a . . . _lot_ of, uh, _sharing feelings,_ for Gen," Rickon was slightly astonished.

"Yeah! Yeah. It means a lot to me," Shireen said quietly. "I think . . . I think he got in a groove or something," she grinned, "He sounded like he kinda wanted to ride the wave and tell me that while he was on it. Bet he's gonna clam up for days now," she giggled.

Rickon's phone went again, some time later, and he was relieved to see it was Sansa. He hadn't been sure whether she'd avoid him, because he knew something about her feelings for Stannis (little that he knew) now that she'd _done something_ about those feelings. She was staying another week, so he'd see her, but he was relieved to still be in closer communication, too.

> Sansa: Uh, hi Ricky, uh, so
> 
> Sansa: I mean, I think ... Rick I really like Stannis. Like I REALLY like him, and I'm so nervous but also excited and gods I am second-guessing everything and I just ... hope this works out!
> 
> Rickon: I'm so proud of you for going for it, Sansi
> 
> Rickon: Do you think Stannis is ... like, on the same page with you? I know it's like ... soon, but, is that what you're nervous about?
> 
> Sansa: Yeah, I mean. He seems really ... sometimes it's hard to tell? Because he doesn't, like, let a lot show? But he's EXTREMELY respectful and keeps seeming really ... happy? Surprised, shocked even, that I'm interested in him? So I actually feel like I'm being really CLEAR that I like him, like I have to or he'll just ... assume I'm not serious? So that's nervewracking but good for communication I guess?
> 
> Sansa: Gods, please don't talk about this too much with Shireen, I'm all about open communication now but I want to be able to show my nervousness with you and I'm afraid Stannis would interpret it as ... reticence and that's NOT where I'm at
> 
> Rickon: Don't worry, Sansi, I gotcha
> 
> Rickon: I'm really happy you feel comfortable telling me this stuff and I won't pass anything on unless you ask me to
> 
> Sansa: Thanks Ricky
> 
> Sansa: So I just spent a couple of hours brainstorming how to move here as soon as possible
> 
> Sansa: Is that crazy, after one ... uh, night? Uh, I went home with Stannis btw
> 
> Rickon: I know, because Arya
> 
> Rickon: I don't think it's crazy
> 
> Sansa: I mean, it's not like I'm moving here FOR him, I was already moving here, it's just now I like want to do it asap
> 
> Rickon: Yeah see I think that's a GOOD sign. Right?
> 
> Sansa: Yeah. Yeah, I think so? It's too soon, I know it's really too soon to know what will happen, but it's just that I WANT to know what will happen, and the PACE of everything will be ... so SLOW when I'm not here that I just ... want to BE here SO that I can see how it plays out and give it a chance and ... yeah I probably need to calm down but I'm not doing that very well right now
> 
> Rickon: Sansi, you are doing great. This is a big deal, for you to be this excited about it, and I am glad. I should probably insert here that I will not hesitate to go toe-to-toe, even with Shireen's DAD, if he hurts you. But I'm really hoping that it goes well? And, I'm proud of you. And ... I think you have a good chance at something there, just based on what it looked like and what I know of Stannis anyway?
> 
> Rickon: Anyway, you can always talk to me Sansi, and I've got your back if you need me
> 
> Rickon: And, the sooner you move here, the better, as far as I'm concerned. Love you
> 
> Sansa: I love you too, Ricky. Thanks. Sigh. Gotta go back to Arya's and I can't pretend to be less wound up than I am, so let's hope she goes easy on me
> 
> Rickon: Fwiw, she did explicitly choose not to drop "SANSA WENT HOME WITH STANNIS" on the group chat
> 
> Sansa: Oh! Yeah, I guess you didn't get that courtesy, huh? I ... that's something. Okay. I can do this
> 
> Rickon: You can, you're amazing
> 
> Sansa: Thx Ricky <3
> 
> Rickon: <3 <3 <3

He smiled to himself, and turned back to his lovers, snuggled on the couch, and snaked his arms around them. He was _so_ content.

— — —

They were naked again.

They'd lasted a little while after Arya and Gendry's updates; they'd all had showers and talked a little more, in low voices, on the couch, petting the giant cat and feeling cozy, but then the anticipation had started to build as the bright sun moved into a late afternoon angle and then suddenly they'd all seemed to just . . . feel like they'd combust if they didn't get their hands on each other's skin again.

They were standing in a sunbeam, in Lyanna's living room. Leaning against one another.

Shireen's skin glowed in the light streaming through the windows. Her hair seemed to shine with iridescence, like the wings of a crow, and her cheeks were pink now from lust and kisses; the right one fully, the left one only up to where those grey rippling scars began. Lyanna's long hair glowed warm and brown in the sun, with more colors and tones than it showed in dimmer light. Her little frame, her splendid fucking tits with the skin of them a warmer shade than Shir's while the nipples were lighter, her handfuls of muscular ass; Shireen's long legs and long arms and exquisite shoulders and tits just each one fucking spoonful bigger than Lya's, slightly different in shape and color, and _also_ fucking perfect. The two of them were _glorious._

At the moment, they were all breathing heavily, having kissed each other senseless, frantically, urgently, pulling off clothes as they went; having touched and stroked and pulled their bodies together, burning with need for each other.

This moment was a beautiful quiet one: they each breathed, and _looked_ at each other, their lust clear on their faces, the reality of the words they'd spoken, the _love_ they felt making them . . . not shy, definitely _not,_ but maybe . . . deliberate? Like they were _expressing_ something now, something more than just _Gods I want to fuck you both so bad._ (Though _that_ was still there too, of course.) Rick felt like he would burst with all the lust and love and admiration and just fucking gobsmacked awe he felt for these two incredible women.

Their eyes were full of emotion, too, and as Shireen leaned in and kissed him Rick felt as though he could _hear_ it singing in the empty air: all the sharp pull of each other's bodies, all the heat and lightning in their veins, all the warmth in their hearts. He kissed her back, tongues tangling and sliding and his hand on her face, cupping her jaw and brushing his fingertips along her scars.

Lya's body was against them, almost between them, and her hair tickled his chest as she kissed Shireen's neck. He ran his other hand down her chest, from her shoulder to her collarbone to the outside of her breast and down over her belly, and he felt her shiver just as Shireen moaned into his mouth.

— — —


	14. SHIREEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion: smut, plus ideas for and a glimpse into the future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a behemoth; but I wanted this all from Shireen's perspective, so I hope you'll forgive me. There's some real feelings-y stuff in here but quite a lot of smut too. Hope it's enjoyable.
> 
> The next (last) chapter will be epilogue.
> 
> And, of course, I thrive on comments!

— — —

Standing in the sunshine in Lya's living room, Shireen was consumed with passion, with need for these two bodies pressed up against hers, for these two souls locked behind eyes of bright blue and warm brown, she was full of impatience for their touch, their skin, their _sex._ Her hands reached for them, sliding down Rickon's long back as he was kissing her, brushing down Lya's long hair, shining colorful in the sun, and her neck and ribs along her side and hip. Lya's mouth on her chest moved lower, pink lips against pale skin, and she hissed with pleasure as it found her breast, sliding down to her nipple, licking it, then closing around it and sucking.

Her hips rolled into Lya, into Rick, and she saw similar impatience in them: Lya gripping tightly, sucking her nipple and pushing back into Rickon; Rick's hands grasping, his tongue needy, his cock hard and pressed against Lya's back.

Somehow they stumbled to the couch, unable to plan long-term enough to walk all the way to Lyanna's bed. Shireen found herself pushed gently down onto the soft green upholstery. Lya was on top of her, kissing her; Rick was behind Lya, caressing Lya's back and drawing his hands down to her ass. Lyanna moaned, encouraging him; but she kissed and sucked down Shireen's chest with relentless focus, and _oh, gods,_ she was, _gods_ , her mouth wandered lower, across Shireen's belly, down to the top of her pubic bone. She raised up a little then, and Rick scooted back to give her room, watching from over her head, his eyes big, his pupils blown, as Lyanna _looked_ at Shireen's cunt, wet and wanting, and _breathed_ on it, rubbed her cheeks along the insides of Shireen's thighs, and _finally_ nuzzled her mouth in to gently, gently touch with her tongue that center of all the heat and light in her body. Her hair, still blazing in the sun, softly fell over Shireen's thigh; Shireen reached to brush it out of Lya's face, tenderly.

As she started to move her mouth, licking up and down in a rhythm that Shireen fucking _loved_ , Rick's strangled sound called her attention for a second; and she realized that Lya's pretty ass was pushing back into him, most likely _rubbing_ against his cock and the idea of it made the sensations Lya was creating in her cunt intensify.

Lya grinned into her task, and she mumbled, there, vibrating Shireen's cunt with her sounds, "Rick, _please,_ " and Rickon's eyes became twice as dark in an instant, blazing black against bright blue in his pale face haloed brilliant red in the sun, " _please,_ _yes,_ Rick, I need your _cock._ " Shireen heard her own gasp, and felt herself pushing up into Lyanna's face, forcing herself to be gentle; she saw Rick grunt with lust and nod, invisible to Lya, before reaching a long arm down.

He must be taking his cock in his hand, Shireen thought. HIs beautiful cock, and she pictured it: in his hand, lining up with Lya's gorgeous cunt, and she could see in both their faces the moment he pushed it into her, Lya's dark eyes widening and smile spreading, Rick's eyes rolling and face loosening, head thrown back, hair falling around his face; and then she could feel, behind the rhythm Lya was keeping on her cunt and around her clit, the new rhythm of Rickon pushing into Lya, _fucking her while she's licking my cunt,_ and _fuck_ was this beautiful. She said so, stammering out "Gods, you two are so beautiful like that, that's _wonderful,_ " barely able to say it but wanting them to _know._

Then she was distracted from that breathtaking sight by the pooling heat in her cunt washing up over her as Lyanna slid two fingers along the length of her cunt, first, and then _in,_ pushing along the tightening muscles, crooking, sliding and pressing until they hit that place of sweet sensation and Shireen moaned, then, to let her _know_ the fucking _bliss_ she was causing, and Lya concentrated her efforts just there, her tongue wide, licking up and down, her fingers pressing up, and Shireen just, _oh._

And then she felt that tightening of her muscles, the curling of her hands and feet, the pooling of warmth in her cunt and forehead, and then the explosion of lightning throughout her body, spreading, spreading, rolling over her like waves onto the shore, continuing, continuing, as Lyanna licked warm slow stripes up her cunt, slowly and evenly, keeping her orgasm rolling, and she was babbling, " _Lya,_ gods, fuck, gods, yes, _please,_ _yes!_ " And she could see Rick holding on, his eyes wide, his nose scrunched up, wanting Lya to come.

As Shireen's body grew still, Lyanna's head pulled back, and her eyes glazed as she let herself fully concentrate on the sensations in her own body. Shireen wriggled down under her, feeling the pile of the soft material of the couch brush her, bringing her face closer to Lya's, kissing her forehead, fingers brushing her lovely brown hair where it had stuck to her face, muttering her gratitude, and then once again she reached down, between their two bodies, over the soft hair below, and found Lyanna's precious cunt, swollen lips around Rick's cock, _gods._ She used the flats of her fingertips to roll across Lya's clit, back and forth, drawing moans and stuttery breaths out of her immediately, pushing her over from the almost-orgasm that Rick's cock pushing into her had been holding her at and into the full-blown thing. Lya sang, her head thrown back, her mouth rounded into an _Ah-oh-ah_ shape, until she finally got out, " _Yes, Rickon, oh, Shireen, yesyesyesyes!_ "

Being able to see both her face, framed in sunlight that illuminated her hair in rich brown tones, as she came, and Rickon's, behind, his curls giving off a red glow bright against his pale skin, obviously _following,_ his eyes huge and wide with whatever effect Lya's coming was having on his cock, sucking in a breath, and then yelling, bellowing his wordless sound, jerking forward, thrusting into Lyanna, pulsing, twitching, falling forward onto her, both of them falling onto Shireen, who was feeling a bit mashed but could breathe and really, gods, _loved_ how heavy they were, solid on her, _really_ there, really had both just come right above her and _gods_.

They all breathed, such as they could in a heap, for a bit. Then Rick, at the top of the pile, seemed to become conscious of the two bodies under him suddenly, cursed softly and rolled off; with nowhere to go, he sat on the floor, still too relaxed to stand up and walk. Lyanna complained in a wordless whine when the cool air replaced Rickon's warmth on her back, and Shireen sighed; she did need the lung space but it had been so _nice._

She hugged Lya, and then sat up, pulling Lya with her and then slowly disentangling herself, standing on wobbly legs in the cool air and sunshine and going to fetch something to clean them all up with. When she returned they were grateful and they all sat on the couch, languid, three hues of pale skin reflecting the sun, for a bit afterward.

Slowly, they gathered clothing, sighing as they each acknowledged silently that the sun's position had changed; that the time to separate was drawing near. They'd agreed to spend the night apart, as Rick needed to check on his place and worked most of the evening anyway, Shireen had planned dinner with Stannis and needed to try to talk with him—about her own relationship, and whatever was going on with Sansa, she supposed, if he wasn't too tight-lipped to say anything—and Lyanna . . . well, Lya looked like she would probably just mope around missing them, her kissed and swollen lips downturned in a most adorable pout, to be honest.

But it felt important, anyhow. To take time to themselves, to sift their new interconnectedness into their own individual psyches, to balance their minds with alone time, to recharge those parts of themselves and come back together refreshed. But gods, she didn't _want_ to leave them.

They huddled for a bit, not so hungry for each other now, but simply content in their embrace, whispering random thoughts mixed with love and reassurances, and they all agreed that they'd see each other again _soon_. Tomorrow night, after work. One day apart, so easy so recently, was now more than enough for them. They planned to eat together, maybe watch a movie, nothing too strenuous—their social week had left them all wanting more time to simply _be_ in each other's company. Perhaps one night later in the week, they'd plan another date—go and _do_ something together—but for now _simple_ seemed heavenly.

— — —

Shireen drove the few blocks home, resolving to leave her car the next time and walk to Lya's or Rick's. She let herself in to her cozy dark apartment as the sun was dipping low in the sky. She and Rickon had left Lya's together (him to walk back to his own place), by mutual agreement, since saying goodbye seemed easier to do as three.

Stannis was working in his little office, but Shireen knew he would shortly arrive in the kitchen to prepare dinner, precisely on time, so she didn't dream of interrupting him. She deposited her bag of clothes and leftovers, sorting and cleaning up, turning on warm lights as the evening dimmed outside, and hurried to start a load of laundry and check on Garin before meeting Stannis in the kitchen.

They worked together, Stannis throwing an apron over his customary white shirt and black tailored pants, and frying meat and vegetables, while Shireen put together a salad, chopping and washing and sorting in that companionable silence that was, yeah, more tense than usual, but, well, still _mostly_ comfortable, Shireen was relieved to find. The quiet burbling from Garin's tank was soothing, and she found herself humming quietly.

As they sat down to eat, the last gasp of sunset blazed through the low window, and the heating in the place kicked on. Leaves tumbled by on a breeze outside. Stannis looked . . . well, he glowered, a little, but he honestly looked more _relaxed_ than usual, in his jaw, in the shoulders (Shireen _not_ thinking hard about _why_ exactly), but it was accompanied by an odd, buzzy sort of energy that in a less controlled person would probably have manifested as leg-shaking or some nervous tic; in Stannis, it showed in the precise way he seemed to be overcontrolling all his motions, as if to prevent any tiny motion from betraying him.

Shireen figured taking his mind off _Sansa_ might actually help, so she started, "Uh, well, Dad, I, uh, things are going well with Rick and Lya. I'm, um, I'm really . . . happy."

It wasn't really _much_ to say, but she'd spoken, at least.

"That's . . . good, Shireen. You know I'm still . . . concerned about that . . . arrangement. Not for the sake of how it _looks,_ I hope you realize. I want you to be happy, more than I want . . . most things," here Dad's face betrayed more emotion than she expected, "but more because . . . well, even a traditional relationship with, uh, _one_ person can be . . . can end quite badly, Shireen. It seems like you are doubling the possibilities for. Well. For hurt, and heartbreak, for people to treat you with . . . less respect than you deserve. _More_ than doubling, really . . ." he trailed off quietly.

"I know, Dad, and I _know_ you are concerned with . . . my wellbeing, and my . . . heart," Shireen was quiet, too, "But you, well. I can't really convince you, I don't think. Of what it will be like in the future; I can't claim to know for sure. But I can say that this feels . . . you'd think it would _feel_ less secure, less _stable,_ steady, _easy_ , than the other relationships I've had with . . . uh, one person at a time, but it . . . there's so much of that kind of feeling, Dad."

"I mean, it's . . . um . . . _exciting_ , too, I, uh." She stopped, not wanting to talk about the _exciting_ nature of her threesome with her _Dad,_ "But. Rickon is . . . well. He's young, and he can be . . . rash, and a little wild. But he's also very, uh, forthright? I mean, he talks about his _feelings_ really, uh, easily? And they are really, um, _apparent,_ and I guess . . . I'm just trying to say I really _trust_ him, Dad, I already _have_ trusted him all this time he's been my . . . well, my _best friend,_ since Devan is, well, still my best friend, too, in a way, but not as close as he used to be? And Rick hasn't hurt me, _wouldn't_ hurt me, and I already . . . _know_ that, okay?"

She took a breath. Stannis's attention was focused on her, his dark blue eyes blazing into her own. He looked serious, but not disapproving: he was considering her words intently, and she felt a surge of love and pride for his nature, his serious nature, that he was _Stannis_ in all things and never . . . _Robert,_ or even _Renly,_ remotely, at all.

"And Lya is, um, well, maybe some would say that she's wild, too, in a way, but I've always seen it as . . . kinda more like . . . no bullshit? Y'know, she is very _honest,_ with others, and, and also, like, with _herself,_ so she doesn't, uh. She doesn't _fuck around,_ " she winced at her obscenity, but Stannis, chewing, took it in stride, "and she knows what she wants, and I, I trust her too. Like, I trust _both_ of them already more than I trust almost anyone, besides, well, you. And, uh, Davos and Marya. And Devan, I guess."

Stannis looked thoughtful.

"And, well, that's like . . . pretty much the most important bit, to, to relationships, as far as I can see, is, is _trust,_ and, and respect, and they respect me, a _lot,_ Dad, and . . . yeah. So we all know it's going to take work, I mean, relationships take work but this thing will take more, like, checking in and balancing and talking about what we're, y'know . . . _feeling_ and stuff," she rushed out, "but we are committed to that. Um, all three of us. So, I dunno, I have a lot of hope right now, that it will actually work. And if not . . . well. I mean, I . . . it will probably be real hard, Dad, but I'm . . . I'm strong. I _know_ I'm strong. And I'll be okay."

She said the last with a tentative smile, and Stannis hesitantly returned it. Well, the corners of his mouth twitched. He looked proud, if unsure.

Shireen took another deep breath. She wanted Dad to know she was there for him too, but . . . she also knew he'd guard his own feelings jealously. She'd been racking her brain for the right thing to say about . . . _Sansa_.

Finally, she went with simply, "I saw that you and Sansa . . . seemed to really, um, enjoy each other's company yesterday? At the party?"

Stannis reddened. He was _really_ quite red, she thought. His jaw had locked. He set down his fork.

"I just, I'm . . . really happy to see that. I mean . . . as long as you're happy about it, I guess?" She left him the opening, and found herself holding her breath waiting to see whether he'd take it.

He seemed to consider. Then he stared at the dark window, his jaw still locked, and said, "Uh, yes. I am . . . happy. So far." He was still _quite_ red.

She thought that was really a _lot_ to get out of Dad on the subject.

"Oh, well . . . _good,_ Dad. Good. I won't . . . uh, pry. But, y'know. You can always . . . talk to me if you, uh, need to. Or, uh, want to." She was pushing it a little, she knew.

He continued to look at the window, or the cozy interior of their home reflected in it. He continued to be very red. But he opened his mouth again. "Yes. Well. Sansa is . . . well, it's a little . . . well. _Unbelievable,_ to me, at the present moment. But she seems to be . . . genuine. In her . . . interest."

Shireen caught on that Dad was really sharing an insecurity with her, and she was _touched,_ even for all the awkwardness of it. Her tone was soft. The darkness that had fallen outside made everything in their apartment look softer in the warm lights.

"Uh, I think so too, Dad. I know she hasn't had an easy time, and Rick is . . . kinda close with her? And she's, well, she's . . . worked hard on herself, Dad. So I think if she's interested in you, it's because . . . well, it's something like, she's done with all the bullshit, to put it bluntly. Someone like _you_ is what she _really_ wants. So, yeah, I think she's genuine, too."

She had another thought. "And, Dad, I mean, I know you . . . don't feel . . . maybe like an, uh, expert? Because you and Mom together was so, uh, well, _bad._ " There was no nice way to put _that._ Stannis looked stony, but continued to listen.

"But I think . . . I _know_ you, Dad. I mean, I know you arguably better than _anyone_ does. And I think, well, I think you could be, uh . . . really _good,_ for Sansa, too. I mean, I think she's _right_ about you. That you could be the kind of person she, uh, _deserves._ "

She'd caught him off guard, and a tiny smile twitched at the corners of his mouth again. He didn't say anything. She wasn't sure that there _was_ anything to say to that, for him. But he didn't look angry; his jaw didn't lock again, his teeth didn't grind. She felt proud.

She also felt like they'd both reached their limit of _talking about feelings,_ so she quickly moved on.

"Uh, what are your plans for Davos and Marya's anniversary? Devan reminded me it's coming up next week, and I wanted to . . ." Stannis looked immensely relieved, and dove into the topic, telling her about his order with the florist, that he'd given Davos the day off, and his gift idea, which was thoughtful, of course. She already had an idea for something perfect to accompany it, and she put a reminder in her phone to go and pick it up the next day after work. _On the way to see my lovers,_ she thought, a grin stealing over her face.

After dinner, Shireen attended to tasks she'd been putting off for days: finishing her laundry, answering emails, checking on Garin, and preparing for work the next day. Soon enough she was lying in her low bed, in her dark room, thinking . . . just thinking over the amazing sensations of the past two weeks. The fucking absolute _wonder_ that was time spent with Rickon and Lyanna. The comfort and bliss and love she felt in their presence; the ecstatic electric intense thrill of touching them, of _fucking_ them, of Lya's soft cunt and Rick's beautiful cock, of their hands, mouths, skin on hers.

It was impossible. She _knew_ it was real, but she couldn't help but think of her own mind, just weeks ago; if presented with knowledge of the near future, she would have _absolutely_ not believed it. It was the most incredible thing that had ever happened, and she was fiercely determined to hold onto it with both hands for as long as she could.

She let her mind drift to thoughts of the future. How would it look, a future with the two of them, a partnership of three? She could easily imagine it, more easily than she would have thought: a house, she thought, a _house_ that could hold Lya's books and Rick's art, that could hold Bear the grumpy giant cat, Rick's crazy wolf, Shaggydog, a tank for Garin, space for the three of them to be warm and dry and to love each other in.

A house with a cozy dark space for Shireen, an office like Dad's, where she could shut everything out and concentrate. And room for Rick and Lya to pursue the things she knew they wanted: for Lya to write, for Rick to open up about the secret she knew he held close, the plan he had that he worked so hard for Gen for.

For Shireen, the dream was _this_ : her job was comfortable, though she could probably work in accounting at any number of places and be fine; it was a _home_ that she dreamed of, people and animals to come home to. She'd never wanted to leave Dad's before—the thought of an apartment just for _her_ felt empty. She'd hated the perfectly nice apartment he'd helped her find freshman year at SEU and had quietly asked to come back home, and they'd not mentioned it since.

With her other lovers, she'd tried to imagine making a home, but it had always seemed distant and unknown. This was _far_ different; it was visceral, _easy_ to picture, as though it were right around the corner, and that startled her a little. But she held onto it: locked it into her heart—right next to the image of Dad, _happy,_ with Sansa—to be released and shared as soon as she felt . . . what? She _already_ could easily imagine that _they_ would want this, share this dream with her. She was _almost_ certain. But, well.

 _Some_ time should pass, anyway. For their passion to calm just enough to think of things like this when they were together, rather than just wanting to feel their skin on each other's. Some time for their families to process and, hopefully, accept this strange arrangement. For time to do what it did and simply . . . solidify what was already there.

She drifted to sleep, feeling warm and content, with new dreams in her heart and the ghosts of kisses and touch all over her skin.

— — —

On Monday, Shireen made it through the workday, even though Lyanna wore tight black jeans that made her ass look . . . well. Like, very . . . _grabbable,_ and she really wanted to . . . well. _Do things,_ things that would remain unspecified because to think about them too long, at _work,_ was dangerous. She ate lunch in her office and got shit _done,_ and left a little early, stopping by the local market, chilly in her coat and scarf, and visiting one of her favorite vendors to make sure she had Davos and Marya's gift in plenty of time for their anniversary.

She and Lya met Rick at his place, since they all agreed that Lya's place had seen enough use in the past week and, she suspected, neither of the others was too keen to run into _Stannis_ just yet. Neither was she, to be honest, if the night went the way she wanted.

It did, of course.

As she sat at Rick's table, late afternoon light streaming through the window, and started pouring soup from the leftover containers she'd brought from Dad's, she gazed at the faces of these two beautiful beings haloed in sunbeams and smiled a secret smile to herself. These people were _hers to love,_ and it felt like some unlikely-to-be-real gods had smiled on her and given her the greatest gift she'd receive in her lifetime, and she fucking _treasured_ it, would treasure it and keep it safe and _love them,_ for as long as she could.

After they'd eaten dinner and taken a walk together as the sun was setting through the park and surrounding streets, talking about their impressions of the weekend, how ridiculous Renly and Loras were, how much they'd liked Brienne, their hopes for Sansa and Stannis, Dacey's truculence, and the progress Rick's parents were making with Shaggydog, they crashed back into Rick's apartment in the dark and turned on the lights in the living room, the place dim and warm-looking in their glow.

Then they found themselves stealing glances at each other, and Shireen's blood began to sing with anticipation and images, of sweat on their skin, their eyes glazed with passion, their faces as they came apart, seeped into her mind. _Gods,_ her temperature rose and she flushed, and she could tell their minds were treading down similar paths.

A certain conversation, and the germ of an idea, came to her. She held it close for a little while, not quite brave enough, but once they were touching, kissing, their hands trailing across each other's skin once again, that lightning sparking through her body, she found some fortitude and thought _really, they could say no and it would be fine, so_ . . . _just say it._ So she did, speaking quietly in the warm dim room.

"Um . . . Lya, um . . . do you remember when you told us about . . . how you, uh . . . get off, uh, when you're alone?" Rick's eyes widened with surprise and a grin stole across his face. Lya _flushed,_ and then she grinned too, a proud smirk. Well, that was _good,_ right? Slowly, Lyanna nodded, and Shireen pushed more words out before they could get stuck in her throat.

"Uh. Well, I was wondering if . . . if . . . well, you know you can say _no_ to this and we will still . . . uh, I mean I'm _sure_ we'll have a good time," she laughed, nervously, but also confident in her statement, "but, I wondered if you might be, um, willing to . . . um, _show_ us?"

Rick's eyes grew wider, and his pupils blew out. Lya's were hooded; her flush crept downwards. Outside, cars drove by, their lights casting shadows that moved across the walls. She seemed to gather some resolve.

"Uh . . . yeah. I would kinda _like_ that, I think. But . . . um. It might not look exactly like . . . what you're expecting?" She _was_ nervous, Shireen realized, but in that way Lyanna had of letting the nervousness fuel her desire to _do_ the thing.

"I just mean, uh. I don't . . . usually I'm not . . . I mean, I'm not naked. Uh, it's too, uh . . . sharp? Without layers between me and . . . whatever, um, surface? So maybe it's sexy but not in a . . . naked kind of way?"

Shireen thought that seeing Lyanna make herself come would be fucking lovely, without the need to see _everything_ right that minute, so she said, "I mean, that sounds . . . uh, Lya, we'd still be watching you come, so I'm pretty sure that counts as _sexy._ I mean, we'll still get to . . . uh, take your clothes off later, right?" with a little smirk of her own, and Lyanna's smile grew.

Rick's throat worked, and then he managed, "Uh, yeah, Lya, uh . . . that sounds, um, very lovely." His voice was pitched low with desire.

"Okay." Lya breathed deep. "Okay." Her eyes glittered.

"I'll just . . . I'll take my shirt off, then. When I'm just pleasing myself I don't need it, but . . . this is for _you,_ too. So." And she did, pulling first the fuzzy green wool sweater and then the little black lacy camisole under it over her head. Shireen belatedly realized it must have been one of those ones with a built-in shelf bra because suddenly she was looking at Lya's _fucking lovely_ perfect breasts, again, and Shireen felt herself flush, too, in the cool of the room.

She really should _tell_ Lyanna what effect those had on her. "Your . . . your breasts are . . . _gods,_ Lya. I think they're the _prettiest_ ones, like, ever," she breathed, awkward but completely sincere, _breathless,_ really, and Lya glittered harder, and smirked again.

Rick made strangled noise, and got out, "Gods, yes, Lyanna. And I think, um, yours are fucking . . . equally _perfect,_ Shir," and the words sounded like something someone would just _say,_ because they didn't want someone to feel left out, but when she looked at his _face_ , and he was looking at her, at the shape of her breasts in her own flannel shirt, at her face—and his face was . . . well. He was Rick. He didn't _lie,_ and she could see it in his face that he really believed that. And Lya was nodding, all that glitter in her eyes sharpening on Shireen, and she . . . well.

Lyanna moved then, glancing around, and she stomped to the bathroom and came back with Rick's fluffiest clean hand towel. She walked over to the hall table Rickon kept his mail and keys on and cleared objects from one end of it. Tendrils of her brown hair were escaping the messy bun she'd tucked it up in, curling down her neck and contrasting with her skin. She gave the table a critical eye. Shireen breathed deeply and nudged Rick; they walked a little closer, leaning on each other and the wall.

Lyanna gave them a wild grin. She set the blue towel, still folded, over the corner of the table closest her, and . . . _mounted._ Her thighs hung off the corner of the table, her legs half-bent, and she propped herself up with her wrists against the surface of the table. Her back arched and her tits stuck out and . . . _wow._ It was not quite how Shireen had pictured it, but it was . . . certainly _erotic._ Then, she _moved._ She _swung_ her legs forward, pushing her cunt into the table, and back, pulling them together. And forward. And back. The room was quiet, and the tiny noises the table made in protest were audible.

Her breathing changed, a little crease between her brows, her eyes distant. There wasn't that much motion, but Shireen could see that all the . . . pressure was concentrated at one point, diffused somewhat, she guessed, by the layers of cloth.

Lyanna's lips were moving . . . was she . . . _counting?_ And then, oh, so quickly, she began to _tremble._ Her mouth opened in a little O. And she _moaned_ , so _quietly,_ and Shireen began to see how she could do this, in a bathroom, quickly, quietly, and no one would hear it. But _seeing_ it was, _fuck._

Lya trembled, trembled and bucked, her motion changing to a little side-to-side rock, chasing the orgasm down. Then she let out a little hitched noise, another, and her body stilled, and she stepped down, _flushed_ bright, panting a little, and grinning in that way that Shireen was starting to recognize as just a _little_ nervous, her eyes still glittering.

Rickon broke the silence, his grin wide. " _Wow,_ Lya, that's . . . fucking _hot._ "

Shireen scrambled to respond, to put Lyanna at ease too. "Yeah. _Yeah. Gods,_ Lya," she breathed.

Lyanna looked thoughtful, and after a moment of catching her breath, her eyes glittered again and she pointed at Rick. "Your turn." _Fuck._

It had occurred to Shireen, when she'd first brought it up, that they might all . . . demonstrate . . . for each other, but it had been . . . _theoretical,_ then, and she hadn't thought about it too much, so that she wouldn't hold her tongue. Now, it was real, and she was already nervous even though Lya hadn't pointed at _her._

But then, Rickon tossed his soft dark red hair, and looked at them both, and grinned. He walked toward his long blue couch, turning to look back at them and crooking his finger, in _just_ the way she was sure he'd crooked it _inside_ her two days ago, and she gulped, looked at Lya, who was smirking again, and followed.

He was taking off his shirt, too, when they arrived there, and then he sat on the couch, against the arm on one end, and they sat, together, Lyanna curling up into Shireen, at the other end, just . . . _watching._ Rick's hand went to his belt, and his eyes locked on Shireen's, then shifted to Lya's, each for a long beat, and he began to unbuckle it.

As he shimmied out of his pants, they saw his cock, hard, practically bursting from his boxers, and Lya's face next to Shir's broke out into a wicked grin, seeing the effect watching her had had on him. Shir wanted her to know it had affected her too, so she whispered in Lya's ear, hugging her warm against her chest.

"Watching you come was _so good,_ Lya. _Thank you,_ for doing that for us," and then Lya's grin was even wider, her head turning to Shireen for an instant, her hands falling to Shireen's thighs where they surrounded her on the couch, and then Rick was taking off his boxers and they both turned back toward him, transfixed. He was breathing hard, trying to move slowly, breathe evenly, and she could see how far he was already gone.

There was something, too, about him choosing to be naked, when Shireen still had all her clothes on and Lya half of hers, that felt . . . _vulnerable,_ despite his confident grin, and she felt a tender feeling as well as the heat trickling along her spine as she watched. He was unafraid, and it wasn't because of misplaced confidence, it was . . . he _trusted_ them, deeply, implicitly, and that tasted sweet.

He pulled his long legs up onto the couch, tucking them under him, and then he put his hand on his cock. He muttered, "Might as well do it right," and retrieved something from the pocket of his pants: a tiny jar, unlabeled. "Coconut oil," he muttered at her eyebrow, and she could tell Lya's eyebrow was up too, because he colored a little and stammered, "I use it for my hands, okay, after I wash them? A thousand times a day? At work? It's good lube but I don't just . . . carry it on my person for _only_ that purpose!" and they giggled at him, and he grinned, and then _gods,_ his hands were glistening and they both went to his cock and spread over it, making it shine.

" _Fuck._ " It was she who had spoken, Shireen realized belatedly. Rick grinned, and began to _stroke._

His hand was so large, on his long pretty cock, and it pulled up and pushed down and pulled up again in a motion so languid and _practiced_ that she could practically see in it the many mornings Rick had said he'd thought of them, one or the other or both of them, while touching himself in _just this way,_ and she could feel a gush of wetness in her cunt just _loving_ that thought and this image and being able, now, after this, to _picture_ him properly, doing that, whenever she wanted, and _gods._

His gaze rose to their faces, again, his cheeks a bit red and his eyes focused, as though he were making himself look, as though the sight of them watching him was embarrassing him in that good way that _really_ turned him on, and gods, she thrilled to see it, and she couldn't resist testing out that power, just a little, in a low voice: " _Yes,_ Rick, that's good, _good. . . ._ " And gods, he flushed brighter and his eyes glazed, and then.

Then his breath caught, and his hand moved _just_ a little slower, and then, _gods,_ his _face_ was a picture of all the tension in his body, gathered up and funneled into a bottleneck, and then it broke and he bellowed, his aurochs bellow, his come shooting up onto his chest, catching there, splaying out, rolling down in pearls; his eyes scrunched almost closed, and then they opened, flitting back and forth focused on Shireen's eyes, then Lyanna's, and back, mostly pupil with a thin circle of bright blue in the lamplight.

His eyes rolled back then, his breathing hard, his face red, and Lyanna hummed, Shireen feeling it through her own throat where the back of Lya's head rested, that low, satisfied sound, and then she spoke: "Lovely, Rick, that was _so_ lovely."

And Shireen concurred, stammering out, " _Gods,_ yes, Rick, that was amazing."

And then, Rick's eyes opened, calmer, satisfied but still shining with lust, and looked at her. And Lya's smile opened up as she turned her head to Shireen, and so softly asked, "Shir, do you want to . . . _show us,_ too? You don't . . . you don't _owe_ us this, you don't have to, it's only if you . . ."

But Shireen felt herself nodding. She _did_ want to. As much as she still distrusted the _idea_ that she was beautiful like they were, she felt really secure in their actual _reactions_ to her. She _knew_ they wanted her, knew they wanted to _see,_ could imagine their faces as she touched herself and _wanted_ to see that, so.

She trembled, a little, as she unfolded herself from behind Lyanna. Lya jumped up, stomped to the bathroom, returned with the towel she'd used to soften the table she'd rocked herself to orgasm on just a few moments before, wet and warm for Rick to clean up with, and while he did that Shireen took off her flannel shirt and hung it neatly on a chair, peeled off her socks, and then, when he was done and both their faces rose to watch her, Lyanna snuggling into Rick now on his end of the couch, her bare side touching his bare chest, Shireen lifted off her undershirt and unhooked her bra. She pulled it down and felt the cool air on her tits; felt her nipples stiffen in the air and the gazes on them.

Watching them watch her was already heady, and she wasn't even fully undressed yet. She was sure she'd come in half the time it took her on her own, though it still wouldn't rival Lyanna for speed, she supposed. Her hands moved flutteringly to her pants, unbuttoning them and pulling them off as slowly and smoothly as she could manage in her twitchy state. She felt the cool air on her legs. A dog barked outside, once, and then it was quiet again.

She'd left her little blue undies on deliberately: She wanted to take her time, and, well. Gods, it _embarrassed_ her in exactly that way she'd seen on Rick's face, but she fucking _wanted_ them to see how _soaked_ those undies were—what they'd _done_ to her.

So she propped herself up on the arm of the couch, leaning back against it, and leaned her right knee against the back of it. Her left foot landed on the floor, softly, and she looked at them above her legs and saw them looking, saw them _knowing,_ and gods, it _did something_ to her, and her fingers began to move across her chest, her belly, around her hips, up her thighs, tracing lightly, with spidery touches, all the places that felt like fire under their eyes. Her nerves were gone; liquid heat pooled in her cunt, and the soaked band of cotton between her legs felt cool against her hot core.

Steadily her hands moved closer to it; soon she was tracing the edges of her undies, Rick's and Lya's eyes fixed there, their breath audible in the quiet room. When she hooked her fingers under the waistband and tugged them slowly down, over her ass, under her knees, pushing them down her legs, Lya's hand gently pulled them off her toes for her, and her eyes were on Shireen's, big and wide and black and brown, before they turned toward her cunt and seemed to be swallowed up looking there. Rick's throat moved and his fingers seemed to twitch as if wanting to touch her and _oh,_ this was nicer than she'd thought it would be.

She curled her hand so that the backs of her knuckles faced her cunt and drew those slowly up and down that cleft between the lips of it, dragging wetness, so much wetness, with them, up and down, while the warmth pooled there, pooled and pooled and the rush of it heated her cheeks and she remembered Rick's eyes and she looked up, right into his face, and, _yeah,_ she could feel her own cheeks blaze more but _gods_ that felt wonderful, looking in his eyes and _knowing_ what she was doing to him, and she caught Lyanna's eye then and _fuck,_ was blown away by the deep fucking _lust_ she saw there, raw and fiery.

Feeling the fire start to lick her insides, she pulled her knuckles up, tracing around her clit carefully, carefully, at just the right distance, pulling down all the way along her lips again, up, around, down, and _gods_ , pushed her legs open just a _little_ more, watching their faces through hooded eyes that wanted to roll back but she held them there so she could _see_ what her impending orgasm _looked_ like reflected in the eyes of her lovers, and _gods,_ the sight of it fed back into the fire in her and her hips moved, bucking upward, her hands riding the wave and keeping up their motion, frantic now, and she keened as it came, that wave, engulfing her, and her eyes did roll back then.

She moaned for them, her lovers, _there,_ right there, _part_ of this, and she unrolled her hands and pushed the pads of her fingers lightly, so lightly, across the hood of her clit, drawing it out, keeping that warm wave of pleasure rolling, rolling through her just a little more, until she breathed deep and slow and looked up at them again.

Their faces glowed with delight, and Lyanna, breathing hard, couldn't contain herself any longer, and leaned forward, bending over Shireen, taking her hand, lifting Shir's wet knuckles to her mouth and _licking_ them, _sucking_ her fingers into her mouth and _gods,_ she was nearly ready to come again at that. Then she let go of her fingers and _kissed_ her, gods, the taste of the wetness from Shireen's fingers, from her very cunt, on her tongue, and Shireen moaned with it, the fucking _sexiness_ of Lya, of every little thing she did.

Rick appeared to feel something similar about the other end of Lyanna, her ass waggling in his face as she bent forward to kiss Shireen, because his hands were caressing Lya's hips, her ass, between her legs and he leaned forward and whispered, loud enough that Shireen could hear it too, in Lya's ear. "Could I, could I take these pants off you, love?"

And Lya moaned and pushed her ass back into him, not breaking the kiss with Shireen but mumbling sloppily into her mouth, "Sure, Rick, _yes,_ " and Shireen again struggled with the sensory overload of pairing the sensations of her own body—Lya's mouth on hers, Lya's hand in her hair, Lya's tits so close in front of her—with the imaginings she could so easily summon of what things looked and felt like to Rick, on the other end of the couch, pulling now at the zipper of Lya's tight jeans with his hands, the rounds of her ass pointed up towards his face, _pushing_ back towards him.

Shireen ran her hands up and down Lya's sides, bumping over her ribs, brushing the sides of her breasts teasingly, feather-soft, while Rickon peeled those jeans down Lya's ass, thighs, calves, and off. When he sat up she saw his face, from where she'd moved to kissing Lyanna's neck and sucking it, just lightly, and his pupils were blown wide again and _gods,_ now Lya's _cunt_ had to be there, facing him, most likely wet and puffy with arousal, and Lyanna was still _pushing_ it towards him and he looked like he might _melt._

Rickon stuttered again, hands caressing the globes of Lyanna's ass, quietly, reverently, "Can . . . _gods,_ Lya, I want to lick you, I want to taste you, can I put my mouth on you, _please?_ " And gods that same fucking _please_ went straight to Shireen's cunt again, and Lya hissed with pleasure and _bit_ at Shir's shoulder just a little and hummed, " _Oh, yes,_ Rick, please, please _do._ "

Shireen pulled back to see Lya's face, still touching her, running her fingers up and down, circling her breasts, thumbing the nipples gently, and she was rewarded with the sight of Lya's eyes widening and blazing when Rick's mouth covered her cunt from behind and began to work. She could hear the sloppy sound of his mouth, his tongue moving in Lya's folds, and then he must have found her clit with it because she inhaled, sharply, and then moaned low, "Yes, Rick, _yesssss . . ._ "

Shireen guessed Rick was struggling with the angle, because he tried a few things, and then he broke contact for a second to slide down, wriggling underneath Lyanna until he was lying on the couch, pulling her down onto his face, and Lya moaned again, but Shireen, _well._ Shireen was very distracted, by two things.

First, now she had all of Lya to look at, and she could _see_ where her cunt was spread across Rick's tongue, how she rocked just very slightly against him, helping him lick her, and _fuck_ , that was hot.

But also, _also,_ Rick's lower body had now pushed itself up against Shireen, his legs wrapping around her to make room for themselves, and _gods,_ his cock, hard again, straining upright, was there, _touching_ her, right there, so she sat up more fully, so that she could keep running one of her hands up and down Lyanna, but with the other, she trailed fingers up the inside of Rick's thigh and then he moaned into Lya's cunt and Shireen could tell she _liked_ that, and the ripple effect of it felt so _nice_ , so she did it again and then slowly wrapped her fingers around his beautiful cock.

He moaned again, so sweet and low, and Lya groaned into Shireen where she had leaned to lick her chest, her collarbone, down to her breast and the pretty pink nipple, sucking it lightly, and she thought she would burst with pleasure, and then she thought she still wanted _more,_ despite that, and she breathed out, across Lya's chest, hopefully loud enough that Rick could hear her under Lya's thighs, "Rickon, could I . . . can I have your cock? I mean, can I . . . _ride_ it?" And _gods._

Everyone moaned at that, Rick with the thought, as his cock jumped in her hand, Lya at the thought and the feeling of Rick's moan vibrating her cunt, and Shireen, with longing now, wanting it, and watching Lya too, breath short at her fucking gorgeous body so close and so _hers to touch._

Rick tried again, "Yes," muffled. " _Please._ "

So Shireen wasted no time, kissing Lya, touching Lya, and at the same time climbing up, finding space for her knees on either side of Rick's legs, barely fitting on the narrow couch. And then she, _gods,_ she couldn't help it, she kept hold of his cock in her hand and _pushed_ it along her cunt, up her folds, and down, not inside yet, back and forth as she'd done to Lya, and she had to let go of Lya and use one of her hands to hold on to the back of the couch.

She rocked against him: her clit, too sensitive for fingers or tongues or vibrators or _almost anything,_ but not _this,_ bare against hard-soft velvet of his cock. And, _fuck_ , her cunt clenched and she came, just like that, with only Rick's cock on her and _fucking hells,_ it was sweet and she cried out softly, " _Oh!_ " and her lovers moaned for _her,_ this time. And then she pushed up a little farther on her knees and slotted his cock into the right place and pushed _down_ onto him and moaned again, loud and low, and Rick did the same, and Lya, _gods._

Shireen reached out to touch Lya again, running her hands across her skin, leaning forward, kissing her panting lips, her neck, and then looking up, and Lya's eyes were huge and she was coming, coming on Rick's face, calling out her song of _ahs_ and _ohs_ and "Fuck, fuck, _yes,_ Rick, _fuck!_ "

Shireen watched Lya's face as her head hung back and she came down from it, and pushed herself up and down the length of Rickon, feeling him tensing beneath her, and took her hand away from Lya, slowly, to reach down to her own clit and push just around it, pull the skin that touched it, around and around, and she found herself coming again, Lya reaching out to her, touching her hair, kissing _her_ neck as she threw her own head back, practically singing, "Oh, yes, yes, _yes!_ " and clenched around Rick, who was quiet, rolling his hips up, tensing every muscle, and just as she felt it ebbing she heard him thunder out his yell, and she _felt_ him, his cock pulsing out his come inside her.

They laughed, then, all together once they were less dazed, with sheer incredulity and wonder, at the fucking luck they had, to be in _this,_ for this to be _theirs,_ and she _loved_ them.

When they lay together, later, in Rick's bed, which was sadly not as big as Lya's and slightly less comfortable, she gazed at their sated, relaxed faces and drifted to sleep, thinking of Rick's beautiful face as he bellowed, of Lya's messy curly hair sticking sweatily to her flushed skin.

— — —

_Two Moons Later_

They sat at Rick's kitchen table, the containers of Braavosi takeout scattered around them, the light long through the windows, the air chilly but the radiator warm. They were all still exhausted from Warrior's Feast weekend, Lyanna from hosting her sisters, though they'd all enjoyed it and Lya had worn her pride on her face for days now at being "fully grown" in her family's eyes and expected to host the gatherings every fifth year from then on. Her tension over seeing Dacey had finally seemed to melt away, too, and Shireen guessed that some sort of test had been passed, and Dacey's quiet disapproval of their relationship had somehow disappeared—or diminished, at least.

Rickon was exhausted from helping Sansa move; she'd finally managed to finalize her lease on the space where she would, by the new year, open the new Storm's End branch of her shop, and she'd rented a small apartment in the same building as Rick's. Shireen thought it obvious, at this point, that no one believed Sansa would be living there for very long: she and Dad were obviously moving toward living together, and that was one reason why Shireen hoped the talk she intended to have with her partners tonight went well. She was nervous, but not overly so. She felt she knew them well enough to know what they'd say. Still, talking with Dad about it had been exhausting in the way that only the nerves of deep conversations with Dad could be, and the social events of the last week had worn on her too.

She relaxed, as much as she could, into eating and talking with them, into not having anywhere to be, and looking forward to a quiet weekend in the company of these lovely beings she had the privilege to love.

"So, what did you want to talk to us about, Shir?" Rickon, always keeping the tasks of their emotional wellbeing in the forefront of his mind. Lyanna looked at Shireen, keenly but softly, her eyes open and her heart full.

"Oh, uh." She started, not nervous for the question, the idea, itself, really, only for the _size_ of it, she guessed. "I, um. I've been thinking about buying a house." There. No, clearer. "For us, I mean." She saw it dawning on their faces, and hurried to stave off whatever conclusions they might jump to that would cause them worry.

"Look, I mean, you know I have money saved. And I, well. I know that you both have dreams. Things you want to _do,_ with the money I know _you_ are saving. Books to write," she looked at Lyanna, "and your tattoo parlor," Rickon still winced, like it still hurt him a little that anyone but him should know about his dream until it was a reality, so she didn't press. "But I really want you to hear me when I say that _this_ , this is _my_ dream," she said firmly. "To own a house, and share it with you two."

Their eyes were still huge, but they were listening rather than objecting right away, so she continued. "I want us to have a place that's comfortable for all of us, that we can live in together." She paused. In her excitement over the idea, she'd forgotten to state the most important part clearly. "I want to live with you, more than anything."

They both smiled. Rick started "I thought we would end up going in together on . . ."

"I know. I know we've all been assuming we'd get a place together soon, and it makes sense to think that we'd all go in on it, but . . ." Shireen made her face very serious. "I . . . I really want to do this, if you'll let me, and it _does not_ come with an expectation that I have more say in what place we get. But I think, I can . . . well. I don't really spend money on much, and I've been living with Dad for a long time. So I have enough. Enough to buy a house where we'd . . . well, I thought . . ." she forged on. "I thought we could each have an office. Like, share a bedroom? If that's comfortable? But then each also have our own space, where we can work uninterrupted, make things, read, whatever?"

Their eyes were huge now. "And, we need space . . . a, a yard," she continued, determined. "For Shaggy."

Now Rick's eyes filled with tears, and Lya's were soft, too. It was Lya who spoke.

"Shir, that's . . . I mean, that's fucking wonderful. But are you sure? You just want to . . . foot the bill, or what?"

"Yes. _Yes._ I want to buy it. I've had advantages my whole life; I suppose Dad tried not to spoil me, but I never had to . . . work to support anyone but myself, or live anywhere I didn't like, or . . . well, really, _pay rent_ for much of my life at all. And what is all that for unless it's to put into the one thing that really matters? A _home,_ with you?"

Rick was crying. He'd started when she'd said _Shaggy_ and hadn't stopped. He gulped now. "What if . . . what if we . . ." he started.

"What if the whole thing goes tits up?" Lya finished for him.

"Yeah. Well. In that case, we'll all be miserable, I guess," Shireen tried to smile, "but I would either keep the house, or sell it. I mean, depending on the conditions, I could sell it to one of you, or, or give it to one of you," she tried, and failed, to consider what her feelings would be about her lovers in such a situation, "but I think going in we should assume that I'd keep it. If that doesn't make you feel, well. I can see how that's something that I could use, if I was, uh, _mean,_ " she rambled (thinking _but I'm not_ ) "to, like . . . hold over your heads or something. But."

She breathed. "But I just _won't_ do that. I won't. You always have a say, each of you, in everything we do, and I will never try to take that away or act like I have more of a _share_ in . . . anything."

Lya nodded, firmly. "Yeah. That's fair. We . . . I mean, you'll probably always have more money than us, Shir. So if there's an imbalance, that's . . . not going away, and we haven't had any problems yet with that. I trust you not to be a jerk who thinks she can buy anything out of us," she laughed, and so did Rick, and that was good, because they thought it was just as absurd as Shireen did, "so we might as well . . . let you contribute to this partnership in a way that you can? That you _want_ to?" She continued, choosing words carefully, serious.

"I mean, I feel a little like a moocher considering the idea, _but,_ like, people get married to partners and treat their money like their own all the time, right? I mean, this is you giving us a huge gift. A gift of a _home_. Really the _best_ fucking gift you could give us. And it's _huge_ so it's hard to accept, but. I can accept it. It sounds wonderful, Shir."

She added, as an afterthought, "As long as Bear can come too, I guess," and rolled her eyes. They all knew Bear thought he was the leader of their little pack, and Lya would sooner leave behind her leg than him. They laughed again, all together.

"Yes. And I'm bringing Garin too," Shireen affirmed solemnly.

Rick sniffed. "Yeah. Shir, this is . . . _so much._ It means so much to me. I could . . . gods. All the money I've been saving looks . . . real different if I don't have to pay rent. Gods. I could open that shop . . . a lot sooner, maybe, if I'm fucking lucky I guess." He looked thoughtful. "I mean, owning a home, can still be expensive, though, right? Like maybe we should each put money into, like, a fund for like . . . repairs or whatever?" She knew he was thinking of the sprawling estate he'd grown up in that had, at moments, threatened to bankrupt his parents with upkeep costs.

"Yeah, that's a good idea, Rick. We'll probably have to think about the specifics of it once we've decided on a place, depending on what kind of upkeep it might need." Shireen smiled.

"I was planning to, well, I have, actually, preliminarily, gotten Renly's help in choosing some decent places to look at, and I have some picked out that I'd love you guys to see, but it's like . . . I haven't _looked_ at any of them yet," she confessed. "I didn't want to come into this with a . . . a favorite, or a choice I was invested in. I want it to be _our_ choice, together. But, yeah, Ren can help us make sure we're not choosing something that's going to kill us with repairs down the road and stuff."

"Good thinking, Shir," Lyanna reassured her. "So when can we start looking at them?"

"Really? You will?" Shireen was beaming. Rick nodded enthusiastically, and Lyanna nodded seriously. "Oh, gods, you guys! I'm so _happy_ about this!" Shireen felt _she_ might cry now, as if the gift were from _them_ to _her._ In a way, it was. "We can look at the ones Ren and I picked out anytime. We could start this weekend if you want," she answered the question, "but there's time to really look more if we don't like those, too."

Rick looked thoughtful now. "Have you talked to Stannis about this?" His face said he suspected that she had. He was right, of course.

"Yes. Dad's . . . uh. He wants it to be a _surprise,_ " she looked at Rick sternly, "but _obviously_ he's going to ask Sansa to move in with him. The minute our plans are definite. Even if you'd said no," she laughed, "I probably would have moved out just because I think he needs that, now."

"We . . . we wouldn't have said _no,_ Shir," Lyanna said, in that tone that Shireen could tell was _love,_ now, "I mean, we might have, to the idea of you footing the bill, but not . . . not to _living_ with you. I want that so much." She looked thoughtful. "Y'know, I looked up _ménage à trois_ moons ago, at the beginning of this? And it translates to _household of three_? I mean, that's always . . . how I see us. Where this was, is going, what I want this to be."

Rick nodded, "Yeah, it feels like _fucking finally,_ that part of it," he grinned. "But with your, uh, with your plan, Shireen, I think we can get a place that . . . it's really going to feel like a _home._ And I, I've spoken to Sansa and Arya, and they have a lead on . . . a person," he said carefully, "a really good dog trainer, who can help me. With Shaggy, so he doesn't, like, destroy our house, or get us in trouble with our neighbors, or anything. He's been improving with Mom and Dad, but I know I've got to get to work with him the minute I get him down here, or he'll revert because he's with me again. So, I've at least . . . got a plan for that." He breathed, and then grinned his precious goofy grin. "Let's start looking, huh?"

And _gods,_ it was really going to happen, this dream she'd had since barely beginning with them, and it was _good._

— — —


	15. LYANNA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into the future. With smut, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! The end!!
> 
> I have enjoyed this experience so much and it's definitely galvanized me to write more. So hopefully that will be coming, (Yes, one big idea definitely being the Stansa version of this timeline!) though I can't say exactly when, since February and March promise to actually provide me with some work that needs doing.
> 
> I tried to really milk the threesome aspect of this for creative and interesting ways to make smut happen; hopefully you liked them. I'd love to know. Now I'm a little nervous that I'll feel less adequate at making regular, two-person sex fun to read. But, well. Won't know if I don't try. :)

— — —

_Ten Moons Later_

Lyanna pulled her old car up in front of the grey house with the green door, seeing it through fresh eyes with her mother and sister in the car. The yard was a little wild and scraggly where Shireen hadn't yet got around to planting; where she had, it was wild in a different way, rich with life—vegetables, flowers, fruits, herbs. The two trees leaned toward each other over the path, which was bare from the constant tread of feet and wolf paws.

They walked up it to the pretty green door and Lya banged it open with one of her suitcase-laden hands. She could hear the soft sounds of Shireen tidying her desk, the quiet closing of her office door, and the tread of her feet on the stairs before she appeared, as breathtaking as she always was, in blue shorts and a faded black t-shirt, to take luggage from Lya's and Aly's hands with the suggestion of hugs around it and a wide smile, and help lug it to the guestroom and to Lya's office upstairs, into which a bed had been shoved for Aly.

Maege stood admiring the artwork (of which almost all was Rickon's—there were a few photos Arya had taken, of the three human denizens of the house, their animals, and some of their friends and loved ones in Storm's End) covering every wall that wasn't overrun with bookshelves, clicking her tongue in thought at the ones she seemed to particularly enjoy.

Dacey's things were already installed in Rick's office, the drawing table and biggest pieces in there having been relocated to his not-yet-open shop for the week, and from the sound of it she was reacquainting herself with Shaggydog in the backyard. Rick came mumbling in the back door and Aly and Mom greeted him warmly. The house would be crowded once Jory and Lyra arrived to take over the couches, but it made her heart full to have both of her families—the sleuth of bears into which she'd been born, and the new pack she'd formed—here, in their home.

Mom looked a bit tired from the travel, though Aly's eyes were bright, so she offered both food and rest, and they took her up on the sandwiches and afterward Mom shut herself in the guestroom to rest for a while. Aly caught them up on her life while Dacey listened and Shaggy, worn out from running about the yard, lumbered into his giant dog bed on the floor, flopped down, and snored. Bear proudly occupied his tree, surveying his terrain and his pack (which somehow, thank _gods,_ now included Shaggy) with pride and the newcomers with suspicion. Garin ignored everyone indiscriminately from his tank on the opposite wall.

Shireen and Rickon looked . . . fucking beautiful, as they always did, which she could never stop wondering at: their faces alight with the afternoon sun, their eyes different shades of peaceful blue, and they followed Aly's animated stories and Dacey's occasional wry comments with equanimity, Shireen smiling and offering quiet comments, Rick grinning and boisterous.

She was so happy to see that (while she knew Shireen would wear out eventually and need some days to recuperate just from so much social interaction) her partners seemed to genuinely enjoy the presence of her idiosyncratic family, and her family all _(even Dacey)_ had somehow just accepted the unconventional partnership she'd found herself in. Granted, they'd probably had a head start on the whole _unconventional_ thing.

She mused that, family member for family member, she had it the best, though really only on a technicality: Catelyn and Ned Stark were still somewhat stiff around them, though Rick was sure it was the type of awkwardness that would eventually fade, and all his siblings had accepted them pretty readily; and as for Shireen, Stannis was a big supporter, but her estranged mother, Selyse, seemed to see it as proof that Stannis had done a terrible job in parenting Shireen, and wanted nothing to do with them. Lyanna privately believed it was just one more in a line of excuses for her glaring absence from Shireen's life.

Eventually they got started on dinner, cooking for four times the number they usually did, and spirits stayed high. Rick joked with Aly over the counter as he layered pasta and put it in the oven. Lyanna stuck to the salad, washing and chopping vegetables with a fury and carefully ignoring Dacey's eyes passing judgment on her chopping technique. Shireen was baking something delicious for dessert.

When Lyra and Jory arrived (with Arya, who'd offered to pick them up so Lyanna and Shireen and Rickon could make dinner), they brought beer and wine, and Gendry. Moments later, Sansa and Stannis appeared, smiling _(Sansa)_ and gruff with _possibly_ a tiny twitch that might be a smile, on someone else _(Stannis)_. The party gathered and helped set the table; then they sat while Lyanna, Shireen, and Rickon brought in the food.

The prospect of this crazy dinner, the lively conversation, her lovers, the _comfort,_ even in the presence of Shireen's _dad,_ a year ago, would have been impossible for Lyanna to imagine.

The talk rambled through diverse topics: the success of Sansa's new shop; Lyra's newest romantic interest; Aly's daughter's new career and her son's college prospects and high-school troubles; Gendry's information about the ongoing hunt for Robert Baratheon's children, including his newly discovered siblings in Estermont, Longtable, and Oldtown; Shireen's garden; and, of course, the inevitable grilling about Lya's progress on her book.

"I told you, Mom, I have it half written. I'm working more or less steadily. But there's no reason to assume it will get picked up by anyone once it's finished. Very often first novels don't get picked up. I may have to write a few before I find someone willing to publish one. So, y'know, please just don't get too excited."

" _You_ must have been at least a little excited about it, though, to quit your day job . . ." Jory pouted.

"I've _explained_ this, Jor! I didn't _quit working_ entirely! I work freelance now, is all, and it's not _nothing_ ; I work more than half-time and sometimes I put in a _lot_ of hours for deadlines. It just lets me have _some_ time for writing, so I can _try_ to get something published instead of just _wishing_ I could!" she yelled, exasperated; no one seemed to take exception to her outburst, though.

Maege soothed, gruffly. "Lyanna, you should consider _allowing_ your sisters to be excited for you, though, eh? Jorelle has a point, even if she's seemingly incapable of remembering the specifics of your life," she glanced pointedly at Jory, who looked sufficiently cowed.

Rickon cleared his throat. "Well, I think the part that's most exciting is how Shireen's gift has helped us both pursue our dreams. Lya can work part-time from here, and write; and I am getting closer to being able to open up my tattoo shop. Both, at least in part, because we have a roof over our heads, don't have to pay rent, and have space here to work on those things. She's really changed our lives that way." He looked at their partner fondly; she was blushing, of course. He continued, "Not to mention the delicious vegetables that garden keeps us in!" with a smirk and a nod to the dinner, half of the ingredients for which had been provided by the bounty of the aforementioned garden.

There was a round of "Hear, hear!" from the stout Mormonts at the table, who appreciated hearty food to a woman, and a flash of pride on the face of Stannis. Then the conversation tore off again, trampling from one topic to the next. Stannis gravely filled them in on his understanding of the status of the joint lawsuit several of Robert's children (not including Gendry) had filed against him; Rick happily extolled the aptitude of Sandor Clegane, the giant scarred fucker who'd once been Sansa's bodyguard and was now an extremely talented dog trainer, and his grand success at helping Shaggydog live his best nondestructive life.

After Shireen's _fucking delicious_ blackberry pie, Mom went to bed, Sansa and Stannis went home, and the rest of them sat around the fire pit in the back and drank whiskey and iced tea and told stories. Arya and Gendry left around the same time Dacey and Aly packed it in and went to bed. The three lovers stayed up with Lyra and Jory for a while longer but as the fire died down even they started to yawn and Lyanna took charge of making sure the fire was out while Rickon and Shireen found her sisters pillows and blankets for the couches.

Finally, she trudged up the stairs with her lovers to the room they liked to think of as their _nest,_ on the third floor. It was a converted attic, and it had been the feature that had really sold them on this house—a big, wide room, with space for all three of them, their clothes (it had several closets in the low attic spaces), Lya's bed (which had been unanimously proclaimed most comfortable), bookshelves, drawings, paintings, favorite objects. There were six windows on three walls; two of them had seats in them that were wide and perfect for reading; and there was a big bathroom attached with a tub large enough to hold all three of them, if they got cozy. It was a haven they all treasured.

When they reached it, they sighed into each other and the matching glints in her lovers' eyes told her they weren't too tired for . . . well, mutual appreciation. For Lya to hopefully see their faces as they came at least once each tonight. Gods, it never grew old, knowing how they could make each other feel, losing it for one another.

Quietly they slipped around each other, in a familiar dance, getting ready for bed: brushing their teeth, changing their clothes, pulling hair up. No one set an alarm; she knew Lyra and Jory would come yell if they slept too late, but no one had made plans for too early the next day.

When they were done they leaned their bodies into one another again, taking comfort, and then they kissed each other, together and separate, Lyanna kissing Rick hungrily, Shireen passionately, Rick softly, watching Rickon and Shireen kiss each other greedily, and round and round. Then, slowly, they undressed each other; the only rule in the game being that no one took off their own clothes. Shireen pulled Lyanna's nightshirt over her head as Rickon worked at Shireen's buttons; Lya yanked on Rick's t-shirt as Shireen pushed down his pants; Rick pulled at Lya's little green undies as she grabbed for Shireen's blue ones, and then they both turned on Rick to pull his boxers down. They were laughing, and overcome with hunger for each other's skin, in the same moment.

When they were all naked, she found herself, as she often did, in the middle of a sandwich of bodies, her head against Shireen's chest and her back against Rick's, and they stood like that, just touching, trailing hands over naked skin, for a moment before shuffling toward the bed, each reluctant to let go. She found herself still between them as they tipped themselves over onto the bed and collapsed, laughing and kissing.

Then they quieted, and she was lying on top of Shireen, kissing her, pillowed on her chest, running her hands up and down her long body, with Rick over top of her, kissing up her spine, his hands on her hips, and she felt, she _wanted,_ gods, she _wanted_ so much, so she leaned back into Rick and pushed Shir's legs up, baring her cunt. Then, grinning, she hooked her own legs up and over Shir's and she lowered herself, slowly, savoring the moment of contact, of brushing together their two cunts, of delightful friction, even though her legs were burning trying to move this way, it was just so fucking _delicious_ to feel Shireen's magical precious cunt directly with her own, the lips touching, Lya's clit warm from Shireen's heat, rubbing just a little, up and down.

Rickon sucked in a breath at the sight of it, trailed his fingers over Lya's ass, and probably Shir's too, close but not touching those holy cunts in communion with each other. Shireen's eyes had rolled back, but at that moment she snapped back to attention, and looked at Rickon.

"Rick." she breathed. "Rick," she tried again, louder. "Push your cock in between us. Is it . . . would that work? _Can_ you?

Lyanna couldn't see his face, but she was sure her own was flushed from the contact she was immersed in and from Shireen's fucking _suggestion,_ and she _felt_ Rick, first stiffening, then moving, slowly, some movement of air behind her that was probably a nod, then: pulling his body closer.

Lyanna put her mind to it; then, she tried to make room for him, adjusting her angle against Shireen. Then she felt him, there, the soft hardness of his pretty cock, his fingers trying to find the right place, and she helped him, lifting her ass just a fraction, and _gods, fuck,_ it slid in between them, the folds of her cunt just enveloping the upper half, the folds of Shireen's the lower, and _fuck_ was it slick and warm, and _gods_ when he hit her clit, slick with wetness from _two fucking cunts,_ and started to _pull,_ fucking _slowly,_ so he could control its path, _slowly,_ in and out, _slowly_ just fucking a glove made of her and Shir's cunts seamed together, and all three of them just _moaned,_ and it was so godsdamned _good._

It stayed slow, it had to; one of the slowest, most controlled fucks that Lyanna could remember, Rick's arms around her, holding her legs, helping her hold the difficult position; but the charge of lightning and the wave of orgasm built anyway, climbing up her spine, heat spreading, slowly, but with _so much_ sensation. Rick's mouth, nuzzling at the back of her neck, murmuring sweet sounds, kissing behind her ear, humming; Shireen's gasps under her, her arms fluttering soft caresses along Lya's and Rick's bodies alike; and the sweet haze of _so much contact_ between Shireen's skin and her own. Her own hand running across Shireen's scars on the left side of her face, gentle, so gentle, her mouth just grazing Shir's nipple. And then, _gods,_ she started to come.

Her hips wanted to rock, and she gave in to it, just a little, almost imperceptible rocking, and she saw, looking up from the breast under her mouth to Shir's face, an echo of her own pleasure there, and that furrow in her brow, the one that appeared when she was chasing a sensation, and Shir rocked too, just a little, no more being possible, and _fucking gods,_ she was coming, _fuck._ And gods, Lya was thunderstruck watching her come, from this close, her fucking beautiful face contorting, _gods._

Lyanna was coming on top of her, them both humming and keening; it was all _seven fucking heavens,_ and they sang together, "Oh, _gods, Lya!_ " "Oh, _Shireen,_ " and "Oh, fuck, _yes, Rickon!_ " as they came. Rick's rhythm changed, and his breathing, and that was all the warning she got because his balls were touching Shir, not her, and she couldn't see his face, and then he tensed and yelled his bellow, turning his head so it wasn't directly into her ear, biting his lip and swallowing some of the sound so as not to be _too_ audible downstairs, and, _fuck, gods._

Even that moment, coming down from her own high, she could _feel_ in such a subtle and intimate way, his warm come sliding up between their bodies, fanning out through some mathematics of its own, coating their bellies. Rick was gasping, shaking, and then he pulled his cock out of the warm sheath they'd made for him with their cunts, and _gods, fuck,_ she could feel Shireen's cunt _pulsing_ against her own. _Gods._

Rick flopped down on the bed beside them, and Lya rocked her body with the last strength left in her legs, just a little, slowly, against Shireen, their cunts rubbing, slick with Rickon's come, sliding and pulsing, drawing out the orgasms they both were still shaking with, just a little more, a little more. Then she rolled, sliding along the surface of Shireen, landing on her other side, still glued to her with Rick's come, feeling like a snail, snuggling against her.

The air cooled them, but no one moved yet; then, ponderously, Rick stepped into their bathroom and returned with warm cloths, enough for the whole front surface of each of his women, and a sleepy grin, and they cleaned each other gently, and tucked themselves around each other and under the blankets. Lyanna kissed them in the dark after Shireen put out the lamp, and her heart swelled with fucking _love_ for these _perfect_ fucking partners fortune had somehow brought her, and fuck if there wasn't a goofy smile plastered all over her face. Finally, she fell asleep, curled into her lovers and completely at peace.

— — —


End file.
